Star Wars: Return to Glory Book 1 Rebirth
by jcald47
Summary: The Dark Side is inevitable...


**Prologue**

It is tough being a Sith these days… Particularly when you're trying to bring about the return of an empire all by yourself. Oh, there are other Sith spread out across the galaxy for sure. But they are not _true_ Sith… They think they are, but they are misguided. Focused on themselves and not the larger picture. All about destruction, not creation. Simply a bunch of scavengers, not hunters… And that is why they will have to be completely removed before the true Sith return to prominence. And what a return it will be.

Because you see, and I have been meditating on this a lot recently, I believe the Sith are inevitable. The Jedi can go on about their prophecies and balancing the Force, but how can you have balance by totally eliminating one side of an equation? That just tips the scales completely in one direction… No balance at all. If anything, that would create an even larger imbalance. The same goes for all the other so-called Sith. You eliminate the Light side, and now you are unbalanced the other way.

No, both sides need to exist to maintain a balance. It will just not be a gray, 'both sides are equal' balance but more like the scales of life. You need a push from both sides to maintain constant motion… One side must be down for the other to be up, and vice-versa. Always in motion, always changing, always in balance.

And yes, you heard right. I am indeed saying that once I bring the Sith back to power, we will in turn be brought back down again. It is inevitable… But I have some further thoughts on that. Yet let's not get ahead of ourselves. I am a realist and not overcome by delusions of grandeur. I do not claim to be the Dark Lord of the Sith… Not yet at least. That is not something you just assign yourself. It needs to be earned… And I still have a long way to go… But first, let me tell you first how I came to be. How I started following the path of the dark side of the force.

**Chapter 1**

The year is 1 ABY, and Emperor Palpatine rules the Galactic Empire with an iron-fist, as he had now done for almost 20 years. But unbeknownst but to a relative few is the fact that the former Senator from the planet Naboo is also Darth Sidious, Dark Lord of the Sith. And for the first time in over a thousand years, the Sith are once more the dominant faction in the galaxy, finally bringing to fruition the path set forth by Darth Bane… who ironically had purposely brought down the last Sith Order, _The Brotherhood of Darkness_, during the _Seventh Battle of Ruusan_.

But all is not well in Sidious's empire. His pride and joy, the _Death Star_ battle station, meant to strike terror into the hearts of any that would dare challenge his authority, had been destroyed by the upstart Rebel Alliance during the _Battle of Yavin_… the final shot being fired by one Luke Skywalker, the nephew of a moisture farmer on the planet Tatooine, and now a Rebel pilot, newly anointed Jedi, and previously unknown son of Sidious's Sith apprentice, Darth Vader, known to some as former Jedi Knight Anakin Skywalker.

Yet on Roon, a small, tidal-locked planet located within the dense gas and debris cloud commonly referred to as the _Cloak of the Sith_, such events go mostly unnoticed. A self-sufficient world, Roon is mostly used as a staging area for spice smugglers coming from Ryloth, and the world is officially classified as inaccessible given the difficulty of navigating the '_Cloak_.

Today, Roon is lightly populated and most denizens are descended from various explorers and treasure seekers who have arrived over the centuries in search of fortune and glory. As the world only rotates on its axis once per local year, one side of the planet is permanently lit and maintains a fairly comfortable mean temperature. The dark side of the world is a misty, shadow-dominated region in which the only natural light is that of Roon's single moon, the annual passing of the Rainbow comets, and the few blinking stars that peek through the Cloak of the Sith on occasion.

The inhabitants of Roon are largely Humans, all descendants of disparate explorer or colonial parties, along with Duros, Sullustans, and Twi'leks, Roon's proximity to Ryloth resulting in a large population of that species.

Beside's its sentient population, Roon hosts a variety of wild and domesticated beasts that trace their ancestry to all corners of the galaxy. Banthas, mogos, kalaks, monstrous shamunaar, all inhabit the world, though none are believed to be native. Huge flocks of mynocks darken the skies during annual migrations. The world's mineral wealth is substantial and the cause for its place in space lore: flame jewels, Roon spice, and-most importantly-Roonstones augment the world economy. These natural resources enable the world to survive and even prosper in its own fairly backwater manner.

But it was not always like this. Some 2,000 years ago, Roon was the capital of the _New Sith Empire_, which was founded by Darth Ruin, and in which the Sith ruled a large percentage of the known galaxy. Of course, nothing can last forever. Roughly 1,000 years later, the _New Sith Empire_ fell during the _Second Sith Civil War_, from which emerged the _Brotherhood of Darkness_ as the ruling Sith faction, and whose empire core continued to be located within the _Cloak of the Sith_ during the _New Sith Wars_. The area's decline began shortly after the destruction of the Brotherhood, although rumors still persist of hidden Sith in the area to this day.

Among those living in Roon now is a human couple, Guelim and Sora-An Cal, who reside within the port city of Nime, along the banks of the Roon Sea. Both were fourth-generation Roonians, their ancestors arriving in Roon approximately 240 local years ago. Guelim's family came from Gelgelar, where his great-great-grandfather had fled to as part of that planet's colonization initiative, him being a fugitive political prisoner looking for a low-key location to disappear to. But Gelgelar's near constant precipitation and cloudy weather was too much for him to take, having been raised in the tropical regions of the planet Thyferra. So after nearly 10 years, he uprooted once more, and found his way offworld and to Roon.

Sora-An's family had been residents of the planet Taris prior to arriving on Roon, tracing back their heritage there for millennia, to the glory days when Taris was referred to as the '_Coruscant of the Outer Rim_.' Of particular interest, even though she was unaware of it, was her decadency from an Outcast from Taris's infamous Under City, a healer named Esala, who almost 4000 years ago had tended to an altruistic stranger who was on a quest through the vowels of Taris… and who later would be revealed to be fallen Jedi Knight and former Dark Lord of the Sith, Darth Revan.

Guelim worked as a Judge Advocate, and in the services of the ruthless Governor Gaff. Gaff was male, yellow-skinned Kobak who had worked as a bounty hunter, assassin and spy before arriving on Roon over 20 years ago. He eventually became aide to Imperial Governor Koong, taking over the Governor's role following Koong's death in 15 BBY.

Being a stern but just man, Guelim's moral values when prosecuting the law often put him at odds with his superior, who in turn ran several illegal operations throughout the planet, most of which he had assisted former Governor Koong in developing. This led to Gaff invariably assigning Guelim to fewer and fewer cases, which generated tough economic hardships at the Cal household… The prospects of which did not look as if they would improve in the near future once Sora-An became pregnant with their first child the later that year.

The Galaxy continued to change and shift in the follow-on months as well. The Galactic Empire would rebound from the disaster at Yavin to win a major victory at the _Battle of Hoth_, destroying a major Rebel Alliance stronghold in the process and severly crippling the upstarts, bringing the rebellion close to collapse. But a shift in the balance of the Force would soon afterwards follow, as the fleeing Luke Skywalker, upon guidance from the Force ghost of deceased Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi, would travel to the remote planet of Dagoba… where he would encounter Jedi Master Yoda, and where the revival of the almost defunct Jedi Order would begin.

Come the year 4 ABY, as Guelim sat down to dinner with Sora-An and their son Alandres, his wife gave him the news that she was once again pregnant. His firstborn having been such a blessing, even during the harshest of times, Guelim was rejoiced and vowed to do whatever it took to support their growing family. Meanwhile, out in the Galaxy at large, the decline of the Galactic Empire had begun. The second _Death Star_ was destroyed by the Rebel Alliance during the _Battle of Endor_, and Emperor Palpatine / Darth Sidious was dead at the hands of Anakin Skywalker / Darth Vader. But with Vader mortally wounded during the conflict, the established Sith Order vanished in the blink of an eye with the coinciding deaths of Master and Apprentice … And sometime that night on Roon, Guelim found Alandres wandering around their house, as if he were looking for something. Confused, Guelim asked his son what he was doing out of bed so late, to which Alandres replied, "I was looking for all those people that were screaming..."

The following year, as twins Cardoc and Toral Cal celebrated their first birthday, the New Republic was officially formed, with Mon Mothma, a human female from the planet Chandrila, selected as its first Head of State. On Roon though, the planet's officially recognized allegiance continues to be to the Galactic Empire, with Governor Gaff continuing to amass a massive personal fortune at the expense of the Roonians, all while butting heads with Guelim along the way…

That confrontational pattern would not go on indefinitely though. And on the eve of the Cal twins second birthday midway through the year 6 ABY, Guelim's lifeless, naked body washed up on the shore. He had been beaten so violently that a DNA scan was needed to verify his identity. That evening, after putting her three sons down to sleep, Sora-An went to her bedroom and finally allowed herself to release the intense feelings she had been holding inside since having first glimpsed at the deformed mass that used to be her husband. Clutching at her hair, she sobbed uncontrollably at the unbearable emptiness that she felt, the thought of going on with life without her beloved companion being almost too much to bear. There had been no evidence at the scene to suggest who could have done such a gruesome act, but to Sora-An there was no doubt. In her heart, she knew Gaff was behind it. The Governor had made no qualms about how much he disliked Guelim and his refusal to go along with his illicit affairs, and now he had finally followed through with his threats to making him pay if he did not fall in line. And as tears continued to stream down her face, grief began to be fueled by an even more intense feeling… hate. With every sobbing breath she took, the hate for Gaff grew stronger and stronger until it felt like a blazing sun inside her heart. Then, as she looked at the empty spot next to her on the bed, she said through gritted teeth, "I hope he dies! I hope he dies a horrible, painful death!"

Of course as she said this, Sora-An had not noticed the small figure looking at her from the darkened hallway. Young Alandres could not put into words what he sensed, but he had been drawn to his mother's room like a moth to a flame. The unbridled hate and anger coming from his mother nearly visible through the darkness. And as he listened to her spit out those hateful words, Alandres whispered, "Me too."

Alandres, just like his mother, cried himself to sleep that night as he tightly clutched a stuffed Bantha doll Guelim had bought for him the previous year. His last thought before dosing off was about how he would never see his father, his hero, ever again… Grief and sadness… anger and hate. That night, Alandres dreamt of seeing a dark figure whose features he could not see, but that he sensed was a man. And when the man turned towards him, Alandres felt both amazement and relief emanating from him… almost as if the figure had been looking for someone for a long time, but was surprised that Alandres was the object of his search. In his dream, the figure then approached him and placed a hand on his head. Alandres sensed feelings of sympathy and fury now, and added his own feelings of despair to the emerging cauldron of emotions. Then just before he woke up, Alandres heard… no, more like felt inside his head… the figure say to him, "_We will begin soon_."

Over the next few days, several friends and family tried to console the obviously downcast Alandres. They sympathized with his suffering and tried to sooth him, tried to make him find some level of tranquility, some level of… peace. But Alandres did not want to feel better. The pain he felt was all he had left from his father, and he did not want to let it go. He felt angry, sad… hateful… and he wanted to stay that way. And one night shortly afterwards, the dark figure returned to his dreams. Alandres still could not see a face nor actually hear any words being spoken, but he had no doubts he understood what the figure was communicating to him…

_I see a part of myself within you, child… I can sense your anger, your hate… You will learn to draw power from them … But you also show love… and great passion… They will give you balance, strength… You will draw from them when it is time_.

Alandres tried to speak, but when he opened him mouth no words came out. In the end he realized that, in this dream, he did not have to... The dark figure understood what was in his mind… "Time for what?"

_To amend the injustice that has been inflicted on you and your family… To enact your revenge_.

Alandres was becoming increasingly afraid, and again, the dark figure sensed his feelings without words… _Do not fear… You will not be alone… And that will just be the start_.

"Of wh… what?"

_One thing at time, child… We will begin soon_.

With that, Alandres woke up with a start, his small body covered in sweat. But at the same time, he felt energized as well. Even his infantile mind could sense it… a sense of purpose…

Alandres also thought he could still sense the dark figure's final thoughts before he disappeared…

_Peace is a lie, there is only passion…_

**Chapt****er 2**

Over the course of the following days, Alandres felt almost as if he was seeing the world for the first time. Colors seemed more vibrant, scents more intense, sounds more clear… even the bustle of daily life in Nime felt more pulsating. It was all so much, all so sudden, that his young mind could barely take it all in. Yet he slowly got accustomed to this new perspective… growing more and more aware of the complex and fascinating myriad of life all around him.

During this time, he did not see the dark figure in his dreams. But at times Alandres thought he caught glimpses of him in his waking hours… Always just outside of his field of vision, always gone before he could tell for sure if he was there or not. But one thing Alandres was certain he did perceive from his mysterious visitor was a simple message…

_First a strong mind … _

Alandres did not understand how he knew, but was convinced the dark figure was real and not just something he had imagined in his dreams. And he felt the figure wanted to teach him… to train him. With his father dead… the thought of which was still an open wound in his heart… and his only real friends being his younger brothers… still so young though… he welcomed the unexpected company and attention.

Alandres then went about learning from his newfound awareness. Every day, after his mother had left for newly acquired job… food and drink dispenser at the Harsing Cantina … Alandres would ask their family's nanny droid, to whom Sora-An entrusted their care, to watch the younger twins 'at all times' and 'no matter what.' Being the eldest Cal family member present, the no-frills Model L took his request loophole as an order, and inadvertently removed her immediate focus off him. Alandres would then quietly slip outside, and take longer and longer walks in and around Nime.

Presently it was early spring and the port city's weather was cold and stormy, the strong winds that constantly blew in from over the Roon Sea leaving a distinctive coloring and weathered pattern over the various stone and wood buildings near the shore. Wrapped in his warm Mogo fur cloak, hood snug over his head, Alandres milled about the docks, taking in the non-stop rhythm of activity in this Roonian center of trade... Learning, watching… taking everything in…

On one area, freshly caught spiky sea crabs were being brought in huge quantities, soon to find their way to marketplaces all around the Province. Further down, Alandres could see the outline of the Nime Saltworks plant off in the distance, located far offshore, along with the constant flow of sea vessels heading to and from it. From there, he would pass the road leading to the Mynock guano processing plant, its returns to be used both to develop fertilizers and explosives. And not far ahead was a long row of merchant storefronts displaying numerous wares for the crowds of local and transient citizens that filled the streets… Caf houses, fur traders, artisans, metalworkers and, of course, spice hawkers. This last group is not in as much public display as the other, more respectable, sellers but they are definitely there. Most are just in low-level employ to the larger spice exporters, who bring in raw Ryll spice from Ryloth in order to be processed in Roon in relative quiet before shipping out their massive shipments. But they always have some spill over from the lower quality stuff that they pass down for local sale, supplementing the growing group of addicts

And all along, Alandres could feel them more and more clearly. Their feelings, their loves, their stresses… they all seemed to radiate more and more each day. He could feel the vibrations of life, the flow of emotions that formed the heart of Nime, feeding him… strengthening him… The Sullustan trader, the Duros pilot, the human fisherman, the Twi'lek smuggler… Alandres could feel them all on one level or another. It scared him… but he also liked it.

Unfortunately, during this time, his mind was also growing more and more worried about his mother. Alandres being only five years old, his mother would not think of unloading her growing worries on her young son. But little did she know, she did not have to. Her internal strife radiated out like a beacon that Alandres could make out as clear as daylight. And it was no longer just grief over the loss of her husband that he felt…

Now Alandres knew… or at least understood… about credits, and what passed for them on his planet. In Roon, as in most of the Outer Rim, inhabitants dealt in hard, physical currency, as opposed to the 'electronic' credits preferred by the New Republic and Empire. The preferred type was the metal Aurodium, which was molded into ingots and coins, in turn used for trading.

His parents had also spoken to him often enough about them when he asked for new toys, and he understood that you used them to get new things, but that you did not always have some… or as much as you wanted or needed either. And he could tell that was troubling his mother… a lot. From the hushed talks with her friends to her quiet sobbing at night to the subtle selling of personal possessions that Sora-An thought she was keeping secret, the suddenly-more-aware Alandres could tell his mother was in an increasing turmoil…

So he decided to help her. He would fix her problem. That would be his goal… his passion. And he was surprised at how easy it was… It was easy to tell who was well off around Nime… They wore fancy clothes and had many expensive things. It was easy to tell when they were not around… And it was even easier to get in and out their houses… and take anything you wanted.

In no time at all, Alandres became one of the best thieves in Nime. No home was too secure, no business too protected. Not truly knowing how it was happening, he just seemed to know… to sense… where danger was, and therefore how to get around it with ease.

Yet at first, Alandres was not certain what to do with the first few items he took. But thanks to the dark figure's influence, or so he thought, if he looked hard enough, Alandres could see what seemed to be blackened strands… almost like faint trails of smoke… leading in different directions throughout the city. Initially, Alandres was hesitant. But when he thought he saw the dark figure moving alongside them, he followed to see where they went.

One led to an alley where a pair of townsfolk where discreetly exchanging something he could not see. Another led to a merchant on the docks. Alandres was too far to overhear the conversation he was having, but could tell the two fishermen talking to him were not happy at all. There was also a group of trails that went towards the local jail. He also noticed some citizens connected to these trails seemed to have a dull glow about them, and that sometimes it made them look… blurry.

Slowly it dawned on Alandres that those inhabitants that he was encountering where maybe not the nicest people… or maybe they were, or had been, doing bad things. Now in his heart, Alandres knew that stealing was wrong and he was also now doing bad things. But his mother was suffering and he had to help her too… So maybe, just maybe, doing something wrong was not so bad… if you did it for a good reason or if you were doing it to help someone in trouble.

And with that realization, everything fell into place for Alandres. The dark figure had shown him how to see the trails and to follow them to bad people… but surely some bad people that could help him with the bad things he was doing... More learning.

A particularly distinct set of trails led Alandres to the edge of the western side of Nime, along the area referred to as the Karoom waterfront… and to a group of thugs who called this area their turf… the Pel Gang.

This particular group of Pels was milling about in front of Ybrus Diner, an establishment easily identifiable by the distinctive Bantha skull hanging over the entrance doorway, and was led by a Duros named Macha. Alandres could easily tell who he was without having met him before. He was the one with the strongest aura… and the blurriest of the lot… the worst of them.

Alandres approached cautiously, but he was not scared. He was certain he had seen traces of the dark figure behind the Pels, and was comforted by it. Somehow, he sensed the dark figure would protect him… somehow. The Pels glared at Alandres as he came closer, regarding the young boy as if he was no more than a stray animal. Then one of them, a rather smallish Duro, said, "What'd you want, kid?"

Alandres briefly looked at him, then kept walking towards the Pel leader. Flustered by being ignored by a child, the small Duro stepped in front of him, put his right hand out and pressed it against Alandres's chest, and repeated in a much more irritated tone, "I said, what do you want?!"

Hard as he tried, fear began to surge through Alandres. He wanted to say something… anything… but he was not even sure what. And when he finally felt the small Duros' hand on his chest, the fear overcame him. Even on this cold morning, he felt himself flush, and beads of sweat formed on his forehead. But even as he felt the icy chill of fear run down his spine, Alandres felt as if he was no longer alone… as if someone was there with him… inside him… inside his mind. Instinctively, Alandres grabbed the Duros' wrist with his left hand and, with words that almost didn't sound like his own, said calmly, "I need to speak to your boss."

The Duros' eyes seemed to go blank and his face devoid of expression. He then turned towards the others and said meekly to Macha, "He needs to speak to you boss."

Seeing their comrade's suddenly docile behavior game the Pels a moments pause. Finally snapping out of it, Macha gave their strange young visitor a perplexed look, wondering who this boy… who had just walked up to members of the toughest gang in the city as if it were no big thing… really was. Macha then took a few steps forward to meet Alandres eye to eye and asked him, "Well, kid, you've got my attention… What do you want?"

"Coins," came out of before Alandres realized he had even said it.

"Don't we all," replied Macha with a sly smile, wondering where this was going, "And are you expecting me to just give you some?"

In response, Alandres reached into one of the pockets on his cloak and pulled out a long necklace, composed of a string of shiny, silver orbs, and that he had 'found' in the back of an older human couple's bedroom closet, then held it out for all to see. Macha was taken back by the expensive bauble and reached out to grab it. But Alandres quickly pulled it back out of reach, and repeated, "Coins."

Comprehension dawned on Macha's face and he looked down at Alandres with newfound appreciation. He gave a brief chuckle and simply said, "All right, kid… All right."

And such was formed the partnership between Alandres and the Pels. They never asked where he found the items he brought, and he never asked where the credits they gave him in exchange came from. Sometimes he would bring things he stole, other times he would obtain things that they needed. All along, Alandres knew that he was doing bad things. But still, after he started giving credits to the men that brought the worrisome messages to his Sora-An, his mother began to seem less sad… Confused as well, but definitely happier that she had been. So it could not be all that bad… right?

_This is but a taste of the Dark Side…_

Over the weeks and months that followed, as the New Republic captured the planet Coruscant from the reeling Galactic Empire, their former capital, Alandres's 'education' and 'growth' in Roon continued unabated. As he walked the streets of Nime, sometimes he would find an elevated spot and just… feel… the city below him. And as the cold wind blew against his young face, it brought with it the pain and the happiness, the fears and the dreams of those all around. Alandres reveled in the flow of emotions and soaked everything in…. and making him feel as if he knew about everything that was happening across Nime. He could even pinpoint his mother's vibrant presence within the Cantina… Her aura so much happier now thanks to his efforts… Or the spark of innocence from his brothers back at their house, laughing without a care in the world. These thoughts in turn reminded him on why he was out today… Alandres patted the leather satchel hanging from his shoulder, feeling the 'found' item inside. He finally then reopened his eyes… thought he saw the dark figure, as always, just at the edge of his vision… and then set off to follow the smoky trail that led to the Pel hangout.

Inevitably though, when someone prospers, a lot times, another one suffers. And the sudden influx of currency and subsequent prosperity of the Pels soon came to the attention of their rivals… the Mor'ik Gang. And through a remarkable coincidence… or was it really?… the Mor'iks were also in league with many of Governor Gaff's illicit activities.

Alandres's first encounter with the Mor'iks happened one morning as was making his way through town with his latest pickup for the Pels… when he felt a sudden chill at the base of his skull, then turned to see a trio of figures stepping out from a nearby alley a moment later. The Mor'ik group, a pair of humans and a Sullustan, all males, approached menacingly towards Alandres, who, a full second before it happened, flinched and brazed for the backhand slap the bigger human male gave him.

Alandres landed hard on the ground, blood coming from his lower lip, then scooted backwards until he backed up against the nearest wall he could find. He then looked up at his attackers and saw the distinctive blurry glow around them… more bad guys.

A surge of emotion surged through Alandres, but it was not fear... it was anger. Everything around him seemed to come into focus as he glared at the approaching humans, the Sullustan a few steps behind them… and the dark figure suddenly lurking in the shadows of the alley behind them. Things then happened so fast, Alandres could barely record it afterwards. The taller human said, "Now, let's see what little trinket you're getting from those slimy Pels now."

No sooner had he said that, that Alandres raised both of his feet and slammed them each against each of the human males' groins before they even had a chance to react… and doubling them over and onto their knees… their faces a combined mask of shock and pain.

Seeing his partners incapacitated in front of him, the Sullustan rushed towards Alandres, and the boy knew he was vulnerable and in trouble as he stared at the legs of his would-be pummeler bringing sure fire pain ever closer…and hoping… wishing… that he would somehow trip or fall before he got to him… and which was exactly what happened next, as the Sullastan fell forward as if he had gotten his feet caught on some invisible obstacle.

The startled Sullustan's face now at his own ground level, Alandres planted his foot solidly in between his big black eyes, a sense of pleasure joining his anger as he felt the crushing of bone underneath and saw the squirt of blood followed and dripped from his facial jowls.

Not planning on giving the fallen Mor'iks a chance to recover, Alandres popped up and ran towards the Pel hideout as fast as his small legs could carry him… and certain he could see an image… a vision maybe… of the Mor'iks coming after him again…

"Let them," Alandres thought to himself as he got further and further away from the alley, a predatory smile forming on his young face… fueled by feelings of anger and pride, fear and courage… And along with it, hearing the dark figure's voice clearer than he had in a long time…

_From passion I gain strength…_

**Chapt****er 3**

At the dawn of the year 8 ABY, the makeup of the Galaxy and its major controlling factions continued to evolve markedly. Leia Organa, the former Senator from Alderaan, one of the founding members of the Rebel Alliance and now the New Republic's Minister of State, married her long time lover Han Solo, a former smuggler and now a General of the Republic's military… an event that would have significant consequences on the galaxy in years to come.

Meanwhile, in the battlefield, the New Republic continued to drive back the crumbling Galactic Empire with a victory in what would later be called the _Bacta Wars_ and in which the Republic captured the bacta-producing planet of Thyferra… bacta considered the best medicine in the known galaxy, effective against almost any type of injury or illness.

In Roon though, things remained mostly the same. Galactic-wide events continued to be of minimal impact, aside from the occasional traders that came in through the _Manda-Roon Merchant Route_ or the Twil'lek smugglers that continued to bring in their spice in through the notorious _Death Wind Corridor_ route, all while Governor Gaff continued to reign without opposition.

But in Nime itself, some things were drastically different though. As winter gave way to spring, a young human boy that resembled Alandres Cal in appearance only … at least, that was how Alandres saw himself in any case… made his way out of the city. As he casually glided on a hover board… basically a long, narrow board made out of Carbo-plas on top of some repulsors… Alandres thought about everything that had happened in his life in the last few years, and how much he had changed because of them...

His father's death… _his_ _murder_… His mother's depression… His life of crime… His association with the Pels… The secret payoffs… The fight with the Mori'ks…

Or should he say… fights…

Just as he had seen in his vision, the Mori'ks came for him again… right when he thought they would, and right where thought they would… And he was waiting for them. Him and his Pel compatriots… in superior numbers. The Mori'ks that were able to crawl away from that unpleasant encounter… for the Mori'ks that is… would not be bothering him for a while. Again he saw a dream-like image of something else again spurring them forward against him again, but that seemed to be a long way out still… But this apparent ability of foresight of course reminded him off the biggest change of all… The dark figure.

Ever since that first apparition, Alandres's himself had been irreparably changed. From sensing the feelings of others to an affinity to spot danger to his seeming ability to see events to come, Alandres could now do things no else could do, could see things no one else could see… was growing different with every passing day… was growing… powerful… with every passing day. Now that he fully understood what was happening, Alandres could hear… no, he could sense… the dark figure's thoughts and directions clearly in his mind. Guiding him, molding him… unlocking the passion, the strength, the power within himself. Alandres could also feel something else when the dark figure entered his mind… He still did not know or fully understand who or what he was… Why he was teaching him, helping him… Alandres could sense though what he could only describe as some level of affection… almost like… kinship. But it was still so vague, he could not be certain.

Arriving at his final destination though, Alandres snapped out of his daydreaming. He glanced around and gazed across the wind-swept plains, at the scattered skulls and bones protruding from the ground, some piled up in huge pile… at Roon's Bantha Graveyard. It was here that Alandres came to practice his burgeoning abilities. Again, Alandres closed his eyes and spread out his senses. He sped his board forward and began dodging the oncoming obstacles… over and around, faster and faster.

The first time he had come here, he had crashed into a rock outcropping within the first minute, wrecking the boards' repulsor system and twisting an ankle in the process. He had ended up having to carry his board and hobble all the way back to Nime, not arriving at his house until almost sundown… and earning a very severe grounding from Sora-An.

That was not the case today. Alandres pushed the hover board to its limits… some 50 km/h… and zipped around the piled skeletons, boulders and rock formations with ease. But a high-speed dodge game is not the only reason that Alandres… that the dark figure… chose this site to practice at. He flew towards a particularly wide and tall rock protrusion, pulled the front of his board up, then soared upwards along the side of it. Once he reached the top, Alandres banked a high-G, 180-degree turn and raced down the rock face even faster than before, his descent boosted by gravity. He leveled off once he reached the ground, but did not slow down. His eyes closed, his senses screaming, Alandres spotted an exceptionally large bull Bantha skull and veered straight towards it…

Following that first encounter with the Mori'k gang… when he apparently had tripped the small Duro with a nothing but a thought… Alandres had continuously tried to repeat the feat again and again. He had reached out to the dark figure for guidance, and his mentor had shown him the way. Tripping a passerby, reaching for food across the dinner table, 'borrowing' yet another item from inside a private residence… from outside… Alandres quickly developed an affinity for reaching out and touching the world around him…

But pulling over a plate of food was certainly not the same as moving a huge Bantha skull out of his way as he careened towards it at high speed…

_Yes, it is…_

The dark figure's words drummed more than sounded in Alandres's head, giving him confidence and focus. So in what really lasted a few short moments, but felt much longer, Alandres focused on the skull… it's location, it's shape… then it's weight… what it felt like… where to hold it… And then, feeling as if a giant hand was extending forth from within his body, Alandres had the skull off the ground… higher… and higher… and higher…

Then, in the blink of an eye, he was to and past it… unscathed. Alandres released the skull, which dropped back to the ground with a loud crash, as he whipped his board around and came to a stop. As he saw the massive Bantha head, a wide smile came to his face. That had been the largest object he had ever lifted, and he had done it easily while under pressure. He was growing stronger…

And that was when the familiar chill came to the base of his skull… but much stronger than in any previous instance… Danger was nearby… Big danger… and very close. Now Alandres knew certain nasty creatures inhabited the graveyard, both from local legend… they were said to prey on dying Banthas and unlucky travelers… and his own experience. He had sensed life forms every time he had come here, but always far away… scattered… unconcerned with him.

Yes, they were another reason the graveyard was chosen… To feel them, to hone his senses… but not to face them! With his danger sense howling like an alarm, Alandres look around the nearby area, trying to pinpoint exactly where the creatures might be hiding. But no specific area seemed to jump out more than any other… And that's when he saw them… coming out from behind several large skulls and bone piles… in front of him… to his sides… behind him… all around him… Trapped.

The creatures walked on four legs, the two front ones taller than the two rear ones, which ended in short but sharp black claws. And although they did not seem to be much taller than Alandres was, they were much more massive… at least two to three times his weight. Their muscular bodies were covered in short gray fur, and an elongated head rested on top of short, thick neck. A pair of big round ears, almost like small radars, rested on top of their heads, whiles a short, black snout revealed numbers big teeth, both sharp ones to tear and blunt ones to crush, inside it.

As they then started to slowly close in on Alandres, he felt as if a dagger was shoved in at the base of his skull, and fear enveloped him as the gravity of the situation fell upon him. Suddenly, he did not feel like anything more than a terrified seven-year-old boy, alone and far from home, surrounded by monsters that wanted to eat him.

_You are more than that… _

The voice… the thoughts… of the dark figure steeled Alandres, but they still sounded… felt… somewhat distance. In situations like this one, Alandres would have caught some glimpse of the dark figure already… and he suddenly realized he had not seen any since he left Nime…

_You are not alone… even if I am not here… _

The words resonated in his mind as the pack of creatures continued to creep closer, but his mind struggled to focus as fear continued to overwhelm him…

_This is not an accident… You must be strong if you are going to be who you are meant to be…_

The creature advancing in front of him took a couple of quick steps and moved ahead of the others, making Alandres pull back on his board… until he remembered there were others behind him as well…

"Afraid… help me… please…" where the words that flashed through Alandres's mind, but he was too scared to even say them, as his eyes began to well with tears… making the creatures harder to see… making him even more afraid…

_Use your fear… Draw from it… Release it… It is all the same… You must do it yourself… You can do it…_

"The same," Alandres repeated, and then he understood… Now, subconsciously knowing what to do, he locked eyes with the lead creature, phased out everything else around him, pointed his hover board towards it and blasted off at top speed. As with the instance with the big skull, Alandres closed his eyes and focused on the image he retained from the creature… he reached out to it, caressed it… his sense of danger growing frantic at the imminent collision…

But now he was locked in on the creature… he extended his senses, his feelings towards it… channeling the paralyzing fear he was feeling… This time though, as he was about to collide with it, he thrusted both arms forwards… but this time, he did not extended a caressing grip outward from his being, meant to pull and tug… but a closed fist… meant to push and smash… demolish…

The creature flew backwards as the pent up force from Alandres collided with it, infused with his fear, sending it crashing into a nearby pile of bones as its former prey flew past it without hesitation. Whether it lived or died from the impact, Alandres did not know as he headed back towards Nime without looking back at the graveyard and the chaotic scene he had left behind.

Having conquered his fear and turned it to his benefit, knowledge and understanding began to flow into Alandres even more so than before. He could feel the changes happenings, his increasing awareness of things around him… of things to come… and left behind… His connections to all living things… The physical manifestation of his abilities occurring with growing ease… … It was all so invigorating… So passionate… So fulfilling… The passion… The strength…

_The Force…_

The first time Alandres sensed the dark figure use those words, he assumed they were meant to be taken literally. But now he knew differently. That word was almost no more than a myth in present-day Roon… The Force, the Jedi, the Sith… They no longer existed… They had all died out during the _Great Purge_… They were now just the stuff of bedtime stories for children…

Still, it was _the Force_ that Alandres had tapped into… He was a conduit to this great energy… His own power flowed from it. This is what the dark figure had been teaching him to use… to control…

_You have only scratched the surface… Now we will begin in earnest…_

Eagerness flowed from Alandres, anticipation of the expected wondrous things to come filling his mind…

_And wonderful it will be… But first, it will be challenging… extremely challenging… Only if you are strong enough will you succeed… will you survive…_

A gloomy, ominous feeling emanated from the dark figure into the very core of Alandres, letting the young boy fully understand the seriousness of that statement. And until now, everything had seemed just fun and games to Alandres. Dangerous fun and games for certain, but nothing so grave as to death being a potential outcome.

Alandres's enthusiasm gave way to doubt as the sobering thought settled in. Then he finally decided to ask the questions that he had wanted to ask for a long time… but was afraid of what the answers would be, "Succeed in what? Why are you doing this? Why are you showing me all this?"

_In time, you will have all your answers… But not now… Not all of them, lest your objectivity by swayed… _

_Understand though that you are meant greatness… Greatness that will shape the future… But only through the Force… The Force will change you. It will transform you… But only if you are strong enough… Strong enough to face your fears, your doubts, and move beyond them… Face the impossible… Strong enough to do what's right… Usually the hardest thing to do…_

Alandres's mind was spinning wildly, such vast concepts almost impossible for such a young child to fully comprehend the implications. And, yet he had seen so much, learned so much, in such short time, that he did not doubt the dark figure's words…

But there was one more question that needed answering… And he would not take no for answer… This, he needed to know… "Who are you?"

_I am Revan, Jedi Knight… I am Darth Revan, Dark Lord of the Sith…_

So they were still real... They still existed... Somewhere, somehow. But…

"Which one are you?"

_Both…_

"But… why me?"

_There is part of me in you…_

"I don't understand…"

_You will… In time… I promise… But now you must fully devote yourself to your training… You have passed the initial introduction… Now the real learning begin, the real tests will come… You have grown strong… and there is more yet to be… _

Alandres looked up at the dark figure and repeated the thought he sensed, believing every word of it…

_Through strength, I gain power._

**Chapter 4**

Treachery. That was a key chapter in Alandres's learning. Revan had expressed to him that treachery had long been said to be the way of the Sith… and deservedly so. Traditional Sith ways bred intense rivalry, competition and power struggles, and the opportunities to fall prey to the treachery that inevitably ensued were always critically close. That is why Alandres needed to be aware of it… always stay one step ahead, always suspect the true nature of others… and be treacherous himself when needed.

"Are you then preparing me for your own betrayal of me?" Alandres had asked at one point, having quickly picked up on the theme. His father's own boss, someone that, although disliked by his Guelim, should have at least garnered some measure of trust from such an act, had murdered him. So Alandres was already well aware of the pitfalls of treachery.

But instead of offense, Alandres had felt pride and praise emanating from his teacher…

_You are a fast learner, and that is the correct question to ask… But you need not worry. You are one I would never betray…_

The truth he sensed behind those words put his young mind at ease, although Alandres briefly sensed something else before Revan drew it back into himself. It had felt almost like… sadness… from his own experience with treachery and betrayal?

Alandres was also thought that treachery was not just a Sith condition, but an almost universal constant. A dramatic pair of examples of this very behavior played themselves out in the galactic stage in that very year of 9 ABY, shaping the course of history. With the Galactic Empire on a rapidly accelerating downward spiral, Imperial Grand Admiral Thrawn launched a massive offensive against the New Republic, which culminated in the _Battle of Bilbringi._ Unfortunately for Thrawn, just as he was about to spring what he hoped would be his coup de grace, he was assassinated… betrayed… by his bodyguard, a Noghri named Rukh. The last words Thrawn heard before dying were, "For the treachery of the Empire against the Noghri people. We were betrayed. We have been revenged."

Rukh was in turn referring to an earlier betrayal, in which the Noghri discover that the Empire has been lying and manipulating them for years, while polluting their world in the process… Treachery. The Noghri had afterwards defected from the Empire and joined the New Republic.

But psychoanalysis was by far not the only matter that Alandres was being schooled in. In the end, it was all about the Force. Early on, Revan showed him how to reproduce the effects of the mind trick he had use on the Duro from the Pel gang all that time ago in order to be able to sneak away from school without his teachers reporting his disappearances back to his mother… Ironically, his first dive into true treachery.

All of Nime, and its surrounding territories, became his real school. Walking through the bustling docks and sharpen his abilities to read the emotions and intents of others; Reaching out to touch and feel the world around, using only his mind and his senses… moving, pulling, pushing things as if with his own hands; Running through the busy city roads, blindfolded, avoiding oncoming street traffic in a slightly dangerous game of tag.

He even made it to the planetary capital of Tawntoom… to the dreaded Fortress of Tawntoom, just to pick out the bright, evil aura of the hated Governor Gaff. And back still to the Bantha Graveyard, a great place to sense danger… unpredictable danger… as well as continuing to practice moving objects with his mind… with the Force.

As months passed, he was rapidly becoming very able Force user. But Alandres still had little understanding of what it was to be a Sith… to be a Jedi. Their duties and responsibilities, their views, their rich, yet divergent, histories, and their impact on the history… future… of the galaxy. The emotional and mental commitment… the sacrifices, both deliberate and unintentional ones, that came along with it… But the path to that knowledge would come soon.

As Alandres continued to immerse himself in his learning of the Force, he had begun to knowingly withdraw from his other extracurricular activities. Most of his family's debts had been paid off, his mother had steady employment, and he had stashed away several valuables as insurance, just in case. So there was really no need to continue down that path… Of course, not everyone agreed with that decision.

Over the years, the Pel gang had come to greatly rely on Alandres's 'finds' to supplement their operation… in fact, they depended a lot on them, both for profit and to complete contracts they had taken… and his early retirement was not sitting well with them. Alandres had been sensing their frustration for quite some time after he told them of his decision, but he did not care. They tried showering him with praise and promises of greater wealth and power … as if they knew real power… but Alandres could easily see through their façade, see how they were really not interested in him and just wanted to use him for their means… as they had always done.

And on the day Alandres went to tell them he was completely finished, they begged him to please do one more job for them… said that this would be it… that they wouldn't bother him anymore. Alandres was leery of their offer, as he could feel they were holding something back. But when they told him who the target would be, he could not resist…

Roonstones were rare and extremely valuable crystals found in the Tawntoom province on Roon. Governor Gaff's predecessor, Koong, deliberately destroyed one of the last known batches while the other suspected final collection had been thrown into the Roon Sea. Gaff had been looking for them ever since… And now, after over 20 years of searching, he had finally found them… Or so the Pels said. An inside informer had tipped them when it seemed Gaff's team was getting close, and they in turn had made a deal to sell them to a group of smugglers who would in turn get them out of Roon… A deal worth an astronomical sum to the Pels. Now all they needed someone to obtain the roonstones for them… And who better than the best thief in Nime.

The thought of sticking it to Gaff, who he still had a huge score to settle with, seemed like an appropriate way to close this chapter of his life, so Alandres eagerly accepted the Pels' offer. He could still sense they were holding something back, but it was so vague he decided to file it away. Yet he would remain vigilant, as always, in case danger tried to creep up on him.

Time was short though, and Alandres snuck out of his home shortly after sunset, mounted his hover board and headed towards the seashore. It was early summer, yet a cool breeze still blew in towards the city. Alandres wore dark pants and long sleeved shirt, along with a black face mask he had fashioned out of Mogo leather... his typical 'work' outfit, which made him an almost indistinct blur to anyone who might have been looking in his direction.

It did not take long for Alandres to arrive at the spot the Pels' info said to go in order to intercept the roonstone extraction. Alandres looked out across the vast, dark sea, and all he could see what a blanket of darkness... But he had already learned that he did not necessarily need his eyes to see. Your eyes could deceive you... The Force would not... Alandres closed his eyes and extended his awareness. He felt the abundance of life pulsating from the sea... the occasional pulse of life from the sky above... And there, so alien from that around them that they might have well been holding up an I'd beacon, three other life forms far out in the open sea... Three land based life forms... Gaff's team...

His target found, Alandres guided his board to the water's edge, laid flat on it, then headed straight for it. In the couple of hours that followed, Alandres occupied his mind by attempting to make contact with the creatures that swam all around him... Touching their primitive minds, sensing their instinctive nature, (one more)... Mentally-wise, almost becoming one with them.

Finally, a vessel started coming into view... and the life forms on board began to become more distinct. Alandres slowed down his board, and very slowly continued his approach. He then applied his newly learned trick and projected out the image of a (creature)... Which is what those on the vessel would think they were seeing if they spotted him.

Soon, Alandres was close enough that he could sense in clear detail the life forms he was tracking... His danger sense pricked up when he focused the first form, a Duros standing guard and carrying a rifle... Tense, worried... A second Duros was working some equipment on the forward deck... Calm, focused... And there was a third one... Not on board now but... below. With that realization, the final form took shape. Even being significantly below the surface, Alandres could tell that it was a Twi'lek, a species that he had a certain higher affinity in sensing... Scared, lonely... all as one would be while down in a pitch-black ocean by yourself. His life force though began to creep closer, meaning he was heading towards the surface. Alandres also sensed more from the Twi'lek now... Relief, joy... He had found the roonstones.

A plan formed then in Alandres's mind. He redirected his focus on the weapon-carrying Duro, and began to pour thoughts of alarm, fear and nervousness to him. Alandres sensed the Duro's growing worry turning into panic, and increased his mental assault. Soon after, the Twi'lek emerged from the water, then passed a sealed case to the other Duro, who afterwards helped him climb on bother. That was the moment Alandres was waiting for...

"They are coming for you now!"

The thought reverberated like thunder inside the Duro guard's head as he yelled in turn as his startled companions...

"I will not let you kill me!"

... all while aiming and firing his weapon at them, the lifeless bodies of the other Duro and the Twi'lek dropping to the deck shortly after. An eerie calm feel on the vessel as the last standing Duro approached his fallen victims, his confused mind trying to come to terms with what he had just done. In the meantime, he had not noticed the young human boy that had climbed up on board... and who had apparently floated on air from the water... and that had crept up behind him.... And he never did.

Alandres reached out with the Force and forcefully shoved the Duros off the vessel and into the chilly waters, snagged the case the Twi'lek had brought, and was back on his board headed to shore the Duros even regained the wherewithal to try and get back on board.

By the time he reached the beach, Alandres had already contacted the Pels and agreed on a rendezvous point. A few hours later, a self-satisfied Alandres was back in his bed, his cut of the upcoming sale of the roonstones recorded on his 'credit memory stick' … along with pieces of a small stone that had been cracked… and no one in his family none the wiser about his late night activities… It would not stay like that for long.

Two days later, Alandres was sitting under a tree, gazing out across the Roon Sea as he rested from a particularly intensive training exercise Revan had put him through, when a fire as if from a supernova exploded inside his heart, the initial blinding pain bending him in agony, his face contorted as if trying to blurt out a anguished howl that could just not come out. After a moment, he got to his feet and raced home… an ominous feeling of dread entering his mind. He did not know exactly what had happened, but certain it had been terrible. And when Alandres finally arrived at his house and burst inside, he came across a scene out of his worst nightmares...

Piled up in a corner lay the bodies of his younger brothers, twins Cardoc and Toral… his sweet brothers, his best friends, so young still… a pool of blood spreading out underneath them, their bodies slashed, cut and mangled. It had been their deaths that Alandres had felt…

Sitting on the floor next to them was his mother, or so he thought… her face was so swollen from an obvious beating that it bore little resemblance to the woman he loved so much. And standing over her where two large human men, his family's blood splatter all over their clothing. One of them was talking… Alandres thought he heard him say, "Where are they?!" …when they heard him approaching and turned towards him.

Glancing in shock at the ghastly scene, Alandres felt as if fire were erupting from every pore in his body in blinding, horrifying fury. Whether through a face he was not sure he was making, or a scream he could not hear himself making, Alandres must have been a dreadful sight to behold. The perpetrators of the heinous act where taken aback by him, suddenly afraid of just a small, 8 year old boy. Alandres could clearly feel their confusion, their panic… their fear. And he drew strength from it, his hatred and anger fueled by gasoline, feeling as if the Force itself was about to burst out from his very being… Then he felt his mother's life drain away from her…

_Release your anger…_

And upon hearing Revan's words in his mind, he did just that… The resulting blast that emanated from his body was so bright it blinded him, and Alandres could not tell what happened immediately afterwards. Once his vision cleared though, the answer was quite clear…

One of the thugs was crumpled in an unbreathing heap against the back wall, several parts of his body bent at unnatural angles. The other was also down, but not totally out. He appeared to be badly injured though, as he could barely lift up his head to flash a look of fear and shock at Alandres. The boy walked up to him and poured all his hate, anger and distress into his voice, sounding so much older and commanding that his years would show, yet simply saying, "Why?!"

"Stones… find them… Ga… Gaff sent… us…They s… said you… you… had…"

As the fallen man took his last breath and fell silent, Alandres could barely keep his hands from shaking. It had been his fault! He had brought this on his family! His innocent family! They were all dead because of him! But how…?!

_Treachery…_

Revan's words drummed inside his head like thunder. Yes, treachery... The Pels! Only the Pels knew of his involvement. They had betrayed him to Gaff! … It all made sense now. That was the secret they were keeping. Alandres steals the stones for them, and they in turn told Gaff who had done it. To teach him a lesson for leaving them. And now his family was dead because of it.

Alandres felt like crumbling up in a corner, shut his eyes and cry himself to sleep… anything to take him away from his nightmare. But the hate and anger inside him were like an inexhaustible furnace that would not let that happen. Over the course of the next few hours, Alandres buried his mother and brothers in the lot behind their home, next to the spot were they had laid the body of his father Guelim to rest. All of his family was gone… all taken from him… all in the most horrible of ways… before their time. Then with the same piece of glass he had used to kill the last of the attackers, he carved each of their names into his left forearm… He would never forget them, would never forget the all-too-brief memories he had of them.

Alandres dropped to his knees and pounded on their graves in frustration, wanting to do more than cry… He loved them so much, and now he would never see them again!

_Grieve… It is natural… These are your feelings… Do not let anyone tell you it is wrong to have them… To express them…_

Tears now flowed freely from Alandres as he buried his face in the cold ground, grieving for his terrible loss… and his fault in bringing it about.

After what felt like an eternity but could not have been more than a few minutes, Alandres rose, and wiped tears and dirt from his face. He was not a boy anymore… not the boy he used to be. And now he would reap a horrible vengeance to those that had taken his life away from him…

That night, Revan returned in full view to his dreams. Alandres could finally see the semblance of a face, and there was no doubt the dark, intense eyes were looking at him… at his soul. And as the two stared keenly at each together, a shared thought flowed between them... As its significance sank in, he smiled… both at what he knew would come… Another lesson… Yes, he was still a child. Young, naïve, innocent… But not for much longer. Gaff and the Pels had seen to that, and now too had his new mentor. And Alandres willfully accepted it… and clearly noticed the satisfaction emanating from his teacher. Gaff had first killed his father, and now the rest of his family... his mother… his little brothers… Why them too?!.. The Pels had taken horrible advantage of him and condemned him to death like they would a common pest.

They would pay… They would all pay… Dearly… They would feel the power of his hate… of his anger… of the Force…

_Through power, I gain victory._

**Chapt****er 5**

The next morning Alandres began to put his revenge into effect. He could have done it discreetly. He could have dropped a boulder on top of them from a distance. He could have shoved them pushed them from afar into oncoming street crafts… But that would not do... His payback would be hands on… Personal… Just like they had made it. The last thing any of them would see in the final moments of their life would be his face up close… and personal. And first he would deal with the treachearous Pels. There had been four at the stone exchange. Soon, there would be none…

The first one, a Duro, was found dead in his bedchamber the following day. It seemed as if he had significantly thrashed around in his bed before dying… but not a mark was seen on his body…

A crowd came upon a dead human the next morning, his body stiffened in its final death throes… One hand clutching its chest, his other arm stretched outwards as if reaching out for something… or someone… his face an expression of shock.

Friends discovered the second human dead in his house the following evening. His face was buried inside a large, still full, soup bowl… and all indications were that, as improbable as it seemed, he had drowned in it… And as with the other three dead bodies, there were no signs of foul play. All were also rumored to be part of a nefarious gang, so no one in Nime really cared much about these events. All except for one…

Macha had seen the human boy do many wondrous things and pull off some incredible stunts… and he was certain that he was also behind the deaths of his fellow Pels… How? He did not know for certain… But somehow, he had done it. Three of his top lieutenats… Three of the toughest Pels… Dead with apparently barely an effort. And now Macha was worrying himself sick with anxiety, wondering when Alandres was going to come from him… He did not have long to wait.

As he laid down to sleep that night, Macha thought he heard noise coming from above him. Startled, he gazed upward just in time to see a piece of the ceiling falling down straight towards his face. Sometime later, he regained conciousness… only to notice, through the dull ache in his head, that he was lying down on dirt. He also felt a slight chill. And as his eyesight began to come into focus, he realized he was outside… But where? … He looked around and saw a barren landscape… bones… many bones… a number of skulls… The Bantha Graveyard! … And shortly after that realization, he saw a sight that sent terrifying chills down his spine.

Standing directly in front of him was a small figure, covered in a dark, hooded cloak… And to both sides of him where several horrible, hairy beast… Their eyes… and sharp teeth… glistening in the moonlight… And not just in front of him. Macha now noticed the eyeballs peering at him from all around… Coming out from behind the piles of bones and rock.

The small figure began to approach him, taking off his hood in the process, confirming his worst fears… Alandres. Macha heart began to beat rapidly. So much so he felt it was going to burst out through his chest. He mind was also racing, as he struggled to find something to say… something to stay the bloodlust of the boy he had betrayed… something, anything…

But before Macha could find the words to plead his case, Alandres spoke to him first

"There is a special place in the afterlife for betrayers like you. I hope it is even worse than they say it is."

As soon as the boy uttered those chilling words, the beasts began to moving in on Macha… And the words did finally come to him… Or more specifically, screams. Screams of pain and terror as the beasts tore into him, soon to add his bones to the ever-growing collection in the Graveyard.

Alandres did not stay to watch his newest cohorts finish their feast. He turned away and headed towards his new speeder bike, its former owner close by but no longer to be counted among the living… and having last rode it just a few hours earlier tied to it while in an unconsious state. The seat and foot pedals now adjusted to his dimensions, Alandres hoped on and speed off towards his final destination… Towards his last target… To settle not one, but two immense debts… Towards Gaff.

The Fortress of Tawntoom was an impregnable structure, built into the walls of a volcanic crater and powered by thermal energy from the lava pit far below, capable of withstanding an enormous amount of damage. It was designed to hold advancing armies and forces at bay… a place where Roon's Head of State would be secured while his enemies were kept safely outside… But it was not necessarily set up to keep out a small, determined child… especially not a Force-capable one.

Alandres easily found the small drainage opening… too small for any full-grown, would-be attacker to even think of using as a form of egress… crawled up and inside, and exited soon afterwards within one of the fortresse's lower levels. His senses fully extended, his focus sharpened by his drive… by his hate and anger… by his love for his family… Alandres took account of the life forms around him, close and far. Identifying the path of least resistance, he began advancing through the corridors, making his way upwards… to the stained life form at the very top… to Gaff.

Alandres was using all his powers now, advancing without hesitation. A guard walking towards him suddenly turned around and headed in a different direction, overcome with a sense to go back that way. A pair of them broke their march to check out a large vase that had suddenly fallen off its stand… as if by itself. Another group did not think much of a dark corner they marched past, which could have been considered odd as light was shining directly towards yet the shadows remained.

Finally, Alandres reached Gaff's office. It was locked, sealed by a complex electronic system, which he did not know how to deactivate. The door itself was a thick slab of durasteel, which he may have had trouble budging from its set position. And quite far above him above, on the wall and over the frame of the door, was a small skylight opening, too high to reach, and even then, too small, to enter through… for others. Alandres reached out and turned the Force on himself, boosting his jump. He was then at the opening, then in and down to the other side in the blink of an eye.

Gaff was sitting at his desk and looked up, at first startled, then annoyed. Not feeling particularly threatened by the small boy that had misteriously popped inside his office, Gaff flashed a crooked smile and said, "Who in blazes are you?"

Hearing Gaff's raspy voice reopened the wounds inside Alandres's soul, and all the horrible memories came rushing back… His father's bloated corpse… his mother's beaten face… his brothers… his brothers!!… All that blood!!

Without replying, Alandres bounded towards Gaff on the strenght of two, long, Force-aided strides and, before the Governor had a chance to react, he had withdrawn a durasteel rod from inside his cloak sleeve… which he then used to deliver a crushing blow to the side of Gaff's head. Gaff fell and Alandres pounced on him, the floodgates of emotions overwhelming him and as he proceded to pummel his fallen prey unmercifully with his crude weapon… hot tears streaming down his face as he felt carapace and cartilage breaking and tearing under the weight of his blows.

Finally, with Gaff barely moving, Alandres began to relent. He backed off a few steps as Gaff struggled mightily to flip himself on his back and stare at his young attacker. Gaff then, almost as a whisper, coughed out, "Wh… who… a… are you?"

In reply, Alandres extended his right arm out, making a gripping motion with his small hand. A look of surprise flashed on Gaff's face, his own hands reaching for his throat as he tried to pry away the invisible force that had suddenly begun to choke him. Alandres gave him a wry smile as he walked closer towards him, closing his hand tighter, exerting increased pressure around Gaff's long, thin neck… cutting of air, slowly crushing muscle and shell. But that was not what Alandres had in mind for Gaff' final demise…

Gaff was a Kobok… an insectoid species that possessed venoumous claws and stingers. But in an unusual evolutionary twist, they were not immune to their own poison. Alandres now reached out with his left and extended an invisible grip onto Gaff's right forearm. He then guided it up and towards Gaff's chest… and with a quick thrust, drove the Kobok's razor sharp claws solidly into it….

The resulting look of terror and fear coming from Gaff gave Alandres a brief pause... He could feel it now… This was not him any longer. A changed had happened…

With a weakening Gaff helpless on his back, blood flowing from his various wounds and a the Force grip around his neck squeezing the life out of him, Alandres spoke to him in a voice so chilling that the Governor, even on the edge of death, still shivered with fear…

"I was Alandres Cal, son of Guelim and Sora-An Cal, brother of Cardoc and Toral Cal. You killed my family… You killed my family!! … And with it, you killed Alandres as well."

He suddenly remembered a story he had heard several times growing up… A story of a supernatural being that would swoop down and punish the unjust… Punishing them in a most unpleasant manner… And to whom he now felt a certain connection with…

"I am now… Azrael, and punishment and vengeance now come for you."

With that, Azrael reached out through the Force and squeezed down on Gaff's forearm, pressing on the sensitive venom sacs underneath, and delivering a painful and lethal dose into the gaping open wounds on the Kobok's chest. Gaff froze in place, the massive dose of poison almost immediately overwhelming his central nervous system… Death came an instant later.

Azrael / Alandres surrendered his grip on Gaff's corpse, letting it fall lifelessly to the ground, then turned and headed out of the Fortress. He had meant what he had said. Alandres was gone and his life on Roon was over. Only Azrael remained… Apprentice to Jedi Knight Revan… Apprentice to Darth Revan, Dark Lord of the Sith. And now it was time for Azrael to mature… to fly away and spread his wings on the awaiting galaxy…

_Through victory, my chains are broken…_

Chapter 6

As Azrael sped away from Tawntoom, he could feel Revan's intentions in his mind, and he agreed completely…

It was time to leave Roon.

Far to the south, after several days travel if you were to go by speeder, lay Nunurra, the largest city on Roon and the location of the only spaceport on the planet... The only official spaceport to be precise... And when your planet is the hub of several smuggling passages, there are plenty of makeshift landing sites scattered throughout the surface.

During his partnership with the Pels, Azrael had visited a number of these locations and would be headed towards one of them shortly. His selection was located within the area locals referred to as the Pinnacles of Felth, a collection of rocky foothills, and favorite breeding place of the Mogo, where small, smuggler's ships could easily land and remain undetected… It was also quite easy, for the right person at least, to approach undetected. But first, he would travel to Nime one final time.

Azrael arrived at his family's home around what would have been the time for their evening meal, and the quiet and stillness from within almost drove him to tears. But with his vengeance complete, he held his grief at bay as he prepared to move on to the next phase of his life. He went inside and stuffed a few personal effects into a large satchel... a pair of changes of clothes, grooming items and certain mementos special to his family members from which to remember them by... One last thing left to go.

Azrael started to heads towards his room, and the strong box hidden within it and where he kept the fruits of his illicit labor, but felt pull back from his teacher. Worry bubbled inside Azrael at the thought of leaving Roon with no money, but confidence flowed from Revan as he reassured him...

_You do not need it. The Force will provide and you will improvise. You must become self sufficient, dependant only on yourself... Only that way will you reach your destiny…_

That sufficed Azrael, even if it felt as direction rather than advise, so he grabbed his pack and headed outside. He went to the back and knelt at his family's graveside. Slowly, Azrael placed both hands on the ground… a symbolic attempt by the boy to have one final contact with them… and poured his love for them through the Force. Their deaths had been avenged and the memories of them would forever be burned in his mind and in his heart. And with that, he was done with Nime and with Roon.

Azrael then turned towards his childhood home and sensed Revan's essence working through him… but this time, following the lead and wishes of the student and not the teacher. Azrael raised both hands up into the air, then waved them to the sides as if tracing a circle in the air… And with that, all entrances to the house were under a secure Force lock. No one would be able to come inside unless they were a powerful Force user themselves.

The home was now secure, and would remain so until the day he returned. Azrael did not know when that would be, be he knew it would be so. The Force told him as much… And in the blink of an eye, he was speeding the Pinnacles', and his ticket out of the planet.

It took just under two days for Azrael to reach his final destination, only stopping to sleep and eat. He came in from the north and found a secluded overhang from which he could peer down unnoticed at the favorite landing spot for smugglers, and passed the time in meditation, utilizing a technique that Revan had thought him for just such an occasion.

A few hours later, with his senses extended to the maximum of his capability, Azrael felt a group of life forms approaching. Snapping out of his trance, he focused his attention on the newcomers and deduced them to be a group of three humans. Azrael watched intently as they dismounted their transport and set up an armed perimeter around it. One of them suddenly pointed towards the sky, an all his mates turned to look in that direction, as did Azrael… who just then spotted what he had been waiting for.

Descending upon them was a light freighter, Class 720, also known as a Ghtroc 720. Thousands of these spaceships had been built and sold by their manufacturer, Ghtroc Industries, and they had developed a substantial following across the Outer Rim Territories. This particular ship was originally christened the _Brentaal Princess_ by its first owner, famed Brentaalian human female smuggler Platt Okeefe. Okeefe was eventually apprehended by bounty hunter Zo'Tannath and the 'Princess began to pass from one captain to another. Now named the _Hopeless Diamond_, it gracefully touched down in the makeshift landing pad.

Once it was safe to do so, the trio of humans cautiously approached the _'Diamond_, from which its boarding ramp now extended. Down on it walked a female, light orange Twi'lek, who exuded an air of authority and whom Azrael presumed to be the ship's Captain. She waved the humans inside, and they all quickly followed. Azrael took the chance to climb down from his perch and approach the ship himself. The ship he planned to commandeer… Azrael reached out with the Force and sensed a total of eight life forms inside, the three humans and five smugglers… He was unarmed and outmanned… But he had the Force, and the Force was enough…

Things started to go his way rapidly though, as no sooner had he descended to the base of the hill he had been stationed on, the humans began to exit the ship. The first pair jointly carried a rather large crate, while the third one with him a pair of hand-held cases. The group then headed towards their transport, loaded their haul and departed back in the direction from which they came from. Meanwhile, the ship gave no outward sign that it was preparing to takeoff, and Azrael discerned feelings of expectations from within it. The smugglers must be waiting for another group of clients, and none were presently visible in the surrounding area… This was the opening Azrael needed.

He quietly but swiftly advanced on the ship, picking up for fist-sized rocks along the way, which he stored in the pockets of his cloak… No room for error, so his aim would have to be true… Sensing no one was near… or at least, too near… Azrael went up the ramp, his Force senses fully extended as he reached out to the crew of smugglers to gage their locations, as well as to mask his approach. He pinpointed three almost directly behind him, one towards his right and the last one further down in front, within the ship. Closing his eyes, he focused on the Force and the picture it was painting for him… feeling where the walls were, the hallways, the rooms inside…

Azrael decided to start with the smuggler at the back of the ship. Once he was taken care off, all the other ones would be commonly situated at the front of the ship. He darted inside the ship and headed down the central corridor, towards the lone life form he sensed in that direction. There he found a Bith male, sitting at the ship's Engineering station. The Bith's acute sense of hearing alerted him of impending trouble just a fraction of time too late, as he began to turn right as a Force-aided thrown stone slammed into the back of his large cranium, knocking him unconscious into the control panel he had been working on. Azrael then dragged the fallen smuggler off his chair, stuffed him inside a nearby storage room, and then turned his attention towards his four remaining targets.

He sped back towards the front of the ship, homing in on the life form that sat apart from the other three, by all accounts by himself within a room. Azrael reached the area where he sensed him, gently pressed the door he encountered, and smiled when it opened without additional effort. The room was part of the crew quarters, and the smuggler inside, a Rodian, was blissfully lying down in his bed… Which is exactly where he would stay, as shortly after rising to inspect what had come through his suddenly-open door, he was struck by a fast traveling stone in between his multifaceted eyes. It was now time to head to the bridge…

With surprise being one of his few advantages, Azrael refocused on his targets, etched in his mind their exactly locations and charged forward. The three remaining smugglers… the Twi'lek Captain and a pair of male Togrutas… were pleasantly chatting when they turned to see a young human boy abruptly approaching. Before they had a chance to say anything, Azrael hurled his remaining pair of stones at the Togrutas, each connecting on their foreheads with a dull thud… followed by the dull thuds of their bodies hitting the floor.

The Twi'lek made a move as if reaching for something… a blaster perhaps? … but froze as she felt a sudden pressure building around her neck. Azrael felt a strange calmness exuding from her, but still addressed her firmly, "I do not want to hurt you, and all of your crew is still alive… but I need your ship."

Her options limited, she turned towards the boy and flashed her most endearing smile. Her short but thick leekus were tied behind her head with a length of dark brown leather, the same material that made up the tights pants she wore, which combined with the tight red shirt she wore showed off why they were found so attractive around the galaxy. Close to Azrael's mother's age, the Twi'lek Captain could see his tense stance relax a bit. Then, even though the boy was too young to feel any real physical attraction to her, she responded in a rich, throaty voice, "Well, young man, you could have at least asked nicely… My name is Ryam Quis, Captain of the _Hopeless Diamond_. And you are?"

"Azrael… Would you have given me your ship if I asked?"

"No, but it would have been less rude. I do not think your parents would approve."

Ryam's confidence in handling the situation with ease was reduced significantly when she saw the pure anger flashing in Azrael's eyes, as if two balls of fire had suddenly taken their place. The boy then replied to her in a deathly serious voice that let her know she had to be extremely careful with everything she did and say going forward, "My parents are dead."

Fighting hard to maintain her composure, she told him, "I am very sorry to hear that, Azrael. I meant no offense… Do you… do you know how to fly a ship?"

"No. That is why I did not attack you. I need you to fly it for me."

"Really?" Ryam replied with only the faintest trace of hesitation. "And where to exactly?"

At first, Azrael did not know what to say… but an instant later, the answer was planted in his head…

"Drongar."

"Drongar? I have heard that is not a very inviting place."

"Do not worry. It will be worth your while... Very much so."

Azrael was not sure how that would be the case… he had never even heard of Drongar before… Yet he felt Revan's words and confidence flowing through the Force, and in turn flowed them towards Ryam.

"And my crew?"

"They stay."

Azrael's tone let Ryam it was not for debate either, and she was not planning on pushing him either. She had survived in the dangerous game of smuggling for as long as she had because of knowing when to hold them and when to hold them. And her instincts told her this boy was dangerous… but that he was not lying either. Perhaps now was not the time to resist. She could play this out a bit longer and see how things continued to play out. After all, she always had a knack for being able to get males to do as she wished… How hard could it be with a mere boy…? On the other hand, the idea of flying blindly into unknown dangers did not sit well with her either…

Azrael could sense her internal conflict and offered up a way to ease her mind…

"Drop them off outside of Nime. I know where a lot of smugglers land their ships… And if you agree to flying the ship for me, I will also tell you of place they can go to afterwards to find a lot of valuables to help them find their way off the planet afterwards."

The Twi'lek flashed him a suspecting smile and asked in return, "And would the owner of this loot object to them taking possession of it?"

Azrael thought back to Macha… and the spot he had left him in a few days ago… and answered truthfully, "He will not voice a single complaint to them."

Ryam suspected there was more to the story that Azrael was letting on, but felt satisfied with his reply. She had been smuggling for a living for over a decade, and doing increasing runs through the Death Wind Corridor as well, and had been seriously considering some chances to her business model as of late… Perhaps this was the final push to once and for all start changing things up a bit…

"Very well Azrael, I accept your offer and will fly you around… for now at least. Now grab a seat and show me where this secret treasure of yours is located."

Azrael did as he was asked and took the co-pilot's chair to the right of Ryam's… and, for the first time in years, felt something he had almost forgotten… childish enthusiasm. He never really given any serious thought to actually going into space growing up, yet here he was… about to leave his home planet for parts unknown. Not knowing what he would see or what he would find.

And the _Hopeless Diamond_ shivered, then lifted off from the surface, Azrael was certain he sensed a subtle shift within his perception of the Force… His future and destiny where in motion…

The Force shall set me free…Chapter 7

A lot of critical events happened across the galaxy in the ensuing five years. And none was more significant during that span than the return of the Sith Order. Darth Sidious was reborn into a cloned body… one in a series he had developed earlier for just such an eventuality, and retook control of the Galactic Empire. He then completed the task he had left unfinished at the time of his first death on the second _Death Star_ by taking his last apprentice's son, Luke Skywalker, as his new Sith apprentice and naming him Supreme Commander of the Imperial Forces.

But his success was short lived as, thanks to the help of his twin sister Leia Organa-Solo, Skywalker was able to turn back from the dark side. Then, in a final climatic battle, the twins used their combines Force abilities to briefly sever Sidious's contact with the Force, making the Sith Lord lose control of a massive Force Storm he had summoned in order to destroy the attacking New Republic fleet. The uncontrolled in turn destroyed Sidious's ship, killing him in the process.

Yet the Sith and the Dark Side are nothing if not resilient, and Darth Sidious returned one last time about a year afterwards. Inhabiting the last clone body in his reserves, Sidious began to once more lay siege to the galaxy, conquering worlds and re-expanding the crumbling Galactic Empire. But a supposed ally, Imperial Sovereign Protector Carnor Jax, had tampered with his clone body. His new form rapidly deteriorating, and in a last ditch attempt to save himself… and after communing with the spirits of past Sith Lords on the planet Korriban… Sidious attempted to posses the body of Leia's newborn son, Anakin Solo… ironically named after his grandfather and Sidious's apprentice.

This final scheme met with failure, as a team of Jedi, led by Luke Skywalker, along with Leia and her husband Han Solo, managed to mortally wound Sidious as he attempted to take control of the baby. But Sidious had one more desperate trick up his sleeve, his spirit departing it's dying body and lunging towards young Anakin. Mercifully, Sidious's essence was intercepted by one of the Jedi, Empatojayos Brand, who had also been mortally wounded in the conflict. Bard merged his one Light Side spirit's to Sidious's Dark Side one, and as he finally passed away, took it with him as he became one with the Force…

There, Darth Sidious was to be bound by all the Jedi that had died before him, preventing him from ever returning to plague the living galaxy. And the Sith Order was eradicated once more.

From that day forward, the Jedi and New Republic would blossom, while the Galactic Empire would continue to decay at a rapid pace. Luke Skywalker, the galaxy's sole Jedi Master, went on to build the Jedi Praxeum on Yavin 4, an academy from which to pass along his knowledge and to rebuild the fallen Jedi Order. Leia Organa-Solo was named Chief of State of the New Republic, while the last person to use the formal term of Galactic Emperor, Xandel Carivus, was killed by a member of his own Royal Guard…

Of course, the evolution of the Jedi and the Republic was not without impairment. In an eerily similar story to another being played out elsewhere, the spirit of fallen Jedi Knight and Dark Lord of the Sith Exar Kun was reawakened… and soon after began to corrupt the life of a very talented Force sensitive young human, Kyp Durron. Under the Sith Lord's influence, Durron went on to destroy the planet of Carida in a fit of rage, and Kun managed to even incapacitate Luke Skywalker's Force essence, putting him in a virtual coma. Exar Kun was finally defeated by the combined effort of Skywalker's Jedi students, dispatching the dark spirit into the Chaos of the Force, while Kyp Durron turned back from the edge of the Dark Side, finding forgiveness and redemption in the Light.

Then, on the year 14 ABY, Azrael… born Alandres Cal… returned to Roon.

But to anyone that might have remembered him, Azrael bore little resemblance to the boy that left the planet all those years ago. His height had increased by over 25%, and his taller body was also extremely lean. Not overtly muscular to the eyes of passersby, yet anyone that were to put their hands on him would feel a very solid mass underneath, as if they felt several strands of coiled durasteel threads. His black hair had grown long, part of which was presently whipping around his face and neck, partly blurring the mark near his left collarbone… a mark with a slight similarity to a misshapen star, left behind by the electrostatic stinger of a wriggler of Drongar… Yes, to say that first year in Drongar was rough would be a gross understatement…

Drongar was a tropical planet on one of the most remote areas of the Outer Rim, away from all major trade routes. Monsoons, elevated temperatures, excessive humidity and devastating electrical storms were common, all made the worse by native airborne spores that caused death to anyone not properly protected from them… And it was there that Azrael underwent his initial physical training.

Although now mostly uninhabited, Drongar was once of great importance, having been fought over by factions of the Galactic Republic and the Confederacy of Independent Systems during the conflict commonly referred to as the _Clone Wars_. At one point, the native plant bota was utilized as a highly effective medicine, effective on countless species, making it a very valuable commodity.

A major conflict… the _Battle of Drongar_… was fought there between the Republic and Separatist for over a year for control of the bota sources, which finally culminated in the year 20 BBY due to an unexpected turn of events… The bota plant naturally mutated, its medicinal properties vanished and it became virtually worthless. With nothing left to fight forces, both sides withdrew from the planet… along with almost everyone else, leaving just the scars of battle behind.

Among them was the wreckage of the Republic's Acclamator I-class assault ship _VCD987_, which had been captured by Separatist forces during the _Battle of Drongar_, and that later, after the conflict ended, had crash landed on the planet. And next to this sleeping giant is where the _Hopeless Diamond_ put down…

Azrael stepped outside and gazed at the undisturbed landscape, and the rolling fields of untended bota. The heat and humidity were quickly making him sweat, and the darkening clouds in the horizon let him know that the weather would turn sour soon… Life here would be harsh indeed… So he had to make it more comfortable for his pilot, whom he needed to ensure would stay by his side during his trials and not act on the temptation to leave him stranded as soon as the opportunity presented itself…

The boy then climbed back on board and met Ryam back at the bridge. Seeing the disappointed look in her face as she looked out through the viewport, he repeated the message he had received from his teacher on the voyage from Roon…

"The bota has undergone a reverse mutation. It is part of their natural cycle. The planet was not colonized long enough for others to realize it."

A slight twitch of her leeku betrayed Ryam's combination of sudden excitement and doubt… she had heard of bota and how much it used to be worth… leading Azrael then to say, "Test it for yourself and see. We will get a lot of credits from it before it mutates again."

Shortly thereafter, their partnership became voluntary…

Over the course of the ensuing year, Azrael subjected himself to the most intense physical regimen imaginable... deeply implanted in his subconscious by Revan's Force suggestions. Daily, long distance runs through hot and muggy rainforests and up the imposing Qarohan Steppes; swims in the Sea of Sponges, of which quite a few of the creatures the name was inspired by were poisonous; traversing in the thick and seemingly endless expanses of swamplands.

And also at full intensity was his ever-increasing attenuation with the Force, not only as he trained to hone it further, but simply out of a need for survival. Whether lifting felled logs to build temporarily shelters, sensing and avoiding the venomous purple stingwort plants… whose touch could send a human into shock and eventual death… defending himself against the massive amphibian wrigglers, catching the swift and pesky fire gnats with his bare hands, or simply reaching out with his feelings and sensing the pain and suffering the _Clone Wars_ left long ago throughout the surface of the planet.

Meanwhile, Ryam kept busy setting… initially at least... a small-scale bota distribution network. Anything too big, too soon would draw unwanted attention to them and their secret treasure trove.

Shortly after verifying Azrael's claim, Ryam took a small batch of bota to some contacts in the (relatively) nearby planet of Mon Calamari, and the demand immediately escalated. She brought in a quartet of ASP-7 labor droids to help with the plant harvesting and, within a few months, their operation was supplying raw bota across the neighboring Allied Tion, Calamari and Belderone sectors of the Outer Rim… with currency flowing in at a considerable rate.

During the times Ryam was gone, Azrael would stay in the fallen _VCD987_, sections of which had been sufficiently refurbished to house someone for spells at a time. The immense ship also became an invaluable source of equipment for their expanding home base. Although the majority of it was damaged beyond repair following the great ship's crash, Azrael, Ryam and the droids… which now included a trio of CLL-6 binary load lifter models and a WED Treadwell utility droid in their fold… were able to rescue several torpedoes, speeder bikes, trooper armor and personal weaponry, as well as walkers, and a few gunships and starfighters… Not too mention all the material that could be reused from the damaged gear. This allowed Azrael to expand on yet another area of personal development… his piloting skills.

One of the first couple of things from the downed ship to be brought to working order were a fairly intact starfighter, a V-19 Torrent model, and a LAAT gunship. Ryam would consistently take Azrael up in the latter, instructing him in all the basics of flight. First in simple, low altitude flights with constant emphasis on takeoffs and landing. Azrael developed a quick affinity to flight and not long after graduated to solo flights in the V-19, and almost succeeding in giving Ryam heart failure when he took it on an unscheduled trip to and around Drongar's closest moon.

So by the time that first year drew to a close, things on Grondar had drastically changed. The young human boy Azrael was developing a elite athlete's body, while his Force control was headed to a razor's edge; Ryam Quis, former smuggler, was now spearheading a covert bota exporting operation, supplemented by Naval equipment spare parts sales; The site of a Galactic Republic crash-landing had evolved in a combination pseudo-military base and recycling center… They were now completely self-sufficient. All of which meant one thing…

It was time to move on once again…

Azrael had diligently spent extensive time isolated from civilization as he developed his body and mind in the most adverse conditions. But with that challenge conquered, and his training in those arenas well off the ground, he now needed to reintegrate himself into the galactic population… and developed other traits that he would need to fulfill his destiny.

The news of Azrael's decision hit Ryam a lot harder than she expected. In the time they had spent together in desolate Drongar, the two had developed a fairly strong bond. The two had been each other's sole companion and confidants, and the thought of seeing young Azrael go saddened Ryam deeply.

Their relationship was not quite mother-son… the hole in Azrael's heart due to his mother's passing would never allow it, nor did she want to fill it… and their age difference was too much for it to be based on physical attraction. But somewhere in between, attachment had been formed and cultivated.

"And where do you want to go this time?" Ryam now asked him, not that it made much difference, but more trying to stall the inevitable.

"Lianna," Azrael responded matter-of-factly.

"Lianna? ... That's the one ruled by that arrogant wench Valles Santhe. I think they still lean towards the Empire too... You sure know how to pick them. At least it's not too far. It's right on the Perlemian Trade Route. I can have you there in..."

"No," Azrael cut in before Ryam had a chance to finish. "I will go alone. It is part of my training. Besides, you have a lot of work on your hands here."

"Nothing that can't wait until I return!" she started to reply but could already tell by Azrael's face that there was no debate to be had... "Are you ever going to tell me what is it you are supposed to be doing all this awful training for?"

"In time," Azrael answered, a bit uncertain of that himself.

"And how, pray tell, are you going to get to Lianna?"

"In the fighter."

"What?!" Ryam blurted, caught between exasperation and an urge to strangle Azrael. "Lianna is barely at the edge of its range. Even then, you'll likely to fry the engines. If something goes wrong, you could... I know, I know, don't tell me. Part of the training, right?"

The look of serious purpose Azrael gave her as he nodded in reply made him seem so much older than his years to Ryam. And the sudden thought of maybe not seeing him again... ever... brought tears to her eyes.

Azrael could sense in the Force how deep her distress truly was, and admitted to himself that he would miss her too. So he grabbed her hand in his and replied truthfully, "I will call you once I arrive, and frequently afterwards. And don't worry, we will see each other again. Our futures are intertwined... Besides, I'll need someone to pick me up when I'm ready to leave after all."

He said this last phrase with the boyish charm and good nature that he so infrequently used of late... Save for special occasions... Ryam had no choice but to laugh, and give him a big farewell hug... "Now be careful. I know how tough you think you are, but you are still a boy. And there are a lot of nasty surprises waiting out there… And if you need any help over there, look up an old retired smuggler named Biblack. He is a very nice man… Tell him I sent you."

"Thanks… and I will be," was his simple reply as he pulled away and headed towards his quarters to prepare.

He turned back though when Ryam coughed loudly to get his attention. She then tossed him a cred stick and said with a big smile, "When you get to Lianna, make sure to buy some new clothes as well. I hate to tell you but that set you keep wearing really stinks."

Azrael smiled back, then hurried away to finish with his preparations. Drongar had pushed him to what he thought was the edge of his endurance, yet he had broken through and gone further than he imagined possible. Now he had to uproot and throw himself at a new challenge that would push him even further… As he filled up his travel pack, he wondered what waited for him at Lianna.

Chapter 8

As Azrael now walked through the crowded streets of Nime, headed towards his old family home, the feel of all the beings around him, sensing all their innermost thoughts and feelings, brought him back to his days in Lianna… and what a culture shock that had been…

Lianna was an independent world, located in the Outer Rim territory and near the end of the Perlemian Trade Route and within the Allied Tion Sector. The native population of Lianna consisted of the Tionese, a species of Humans descended from the Human inhabitants of Coruscant, and that arrived at the Tion Cluster over 27,000 years ago… pre-dating even the Galactic Republic.

But even though far removed from the Galactic Core, it was of key business and military importance due to it being the home planet of a long time, major starship and military vehicle manufacturer, the massive Santhe/Sienar Technologies Company. During its long and storied existence, Santhe/Sienar and its subsidiaries have outfitted the military might of the Galactic Republic, the Confederacy of Independent Systems, the Galactic Empire, the New Republic, and any other buyer with the currency to buy their goods.

Santhe/Sienar, its parent holding company Santhe Corporation, and Lianna itself, was run by Lady Valles Santhe, the head of the powerful Santhe family, which was the major ruling house on the planet. She was renowned for her unmistakable air of authority, along with the arrogance that came from being used to almost unlimited wealth and power. And although she favored Liann independence and had no use for either the Empire or the Republic, she tended to favor the former for often than not when it came to political dealings.

Lianna was now in full view of Azrael as he guided his starfighter in closer, the massive shipyards staged in orbit a myriad of non-stop activity as they produced TIE fighters, Star Destroyers and everything in-between making his V-19 looked even more obsolete than it really next to the state of the art ships being built here... although they remained popular across the Outer Rim.

The trip from Drongar to Lianna had taken just under a week, based on the standard galactic calendar. Azrael had passed the time going through loads of holo-recordings taken from the _VCD987_'s memory banks, plus putting himself into Force-induced trances so as to make the long voyage more tolerable.

By now, his supplies were extinguished while his engines, redlined most of the way to shorten the trip as much as possible, were on the verge of total collapse. Most starfighters of this size and class were not meant for interstellar travel although some, like Azrael's, had been outfitted with a Class 1 hyperdrive to allow them to operate as Capital ship escorts. But by all accounts, this would be the last voyage these particular engines would make... The trip to Lianna would be one-way.

Now following Ryam's directions, he veered from his present course, lest he be confused with an attacking foe, and set an entry route directly above the planet's North Pole... an old smuggler's trick to avoid detection by planetary radar grids... In Azrael's case, being made even easier by the small size of his ship.

After breaking through the atmosphere, and receiving no threatening hails from planetary security, Azrael reached out with the Force towards the planet below. The response was almost physical in nature, as the feedback from Lianna's population was like a blow to his body, making him almost lose control of the ship. He had spent a year in Drongar in almost total isolation, save for the company of Ryam and the planet's wildlife, and had been unprepared to the excessively vibrant touch generated by several billion inhabitants…

Once more in control of his senses, Azrael pointed the ship headed toward the most intense beacon of life, the capital of Lianna City... and where the next step in his life would start.

Flying south at low altitude and along the banks of the extensive Lona Cranith river, Azrael landed fairly unnoticed just north of the middle class suburbs, where a casual observer might mistaken him for someone's private craft or a ship that had perhaps veered off-course on its way to the nearby Lola Curisch spaceport.

Stepping out of his ship for what would be the last time, as Azrael pondered in which direction he should head to now, the Force ghost of Revan appeared before him. He had not seen much of the former Jedi / Sith in during his stay at Drongar, and Azrael got the sense of how much effort it took for Revan to manifest himself in the physical world… and now that Azrael's training was well underway, he was saving his energy for a future time in which his involvement would need to be more extensive. Still, when he did appear, the impression he left behind was substantial and permanent…

Integrate, learn, thrive, grow…

And with that, Revan was gone again… and Azrael had his objective confirmed.

From there, he made his way south through the middle class residences and into the lower class one. Ryam had given him a name… Biblack… so he made as well follow the only lead he had. And this less affluent area felt as the right place to inquire about an old smuggler's whereabouts. A few questions, and a couple of hours later, Azrael was headed east, towards the city of Lola Curich and specifically Orman's Sky Palace… an immense bar, popular with spacers, and reputed favorite hangout of his target. But before he crossed over the river and left Lianna City behind, he turned towards the southwest and gazed towards a location that made a particularly strong impression in the Force… The Santhe Estate… And he would be going there soon enough.

He found Biblack… a tall, portly human, easily recognizable by his big, bushy, brown and gray beard… two nights later after slipping in through the Sky Palace's back door, and was at his side shortly afterwards. A quick tug of the old smuggler's shirt got his attention, and Azrael asked him with feign innocence, "Excuse me, sir… Are… are you Biblack?"

"Yes I am, young man," Biblack replied, not hiding his surprise at seeing a kid in this particular den of decadence, "And what might you be doing out this late, son? What's your name?"

"Guelim," replied Azrael, giving his father's name and deciding not to reveal his true self as a subtle tingle at the back of his head made him consider it might be useful to keep that to himself for now… "I am a friend of Ryam Quis."

"Ryam?! Well, why didn't you say so?" Biblack replied, his expression softening and a big smile coming across his wide face… "Any friend of that beautiful wormhead is a friend of mine."

Biblack then stretched out his thick hand outwards so as to shake the boy's hand, which he gladly accepted… The Force shot out of Azrael's hands into Biblack like a bolt of electricity, not doing any physical damage, but reaching the smuggler's mind and opening it wide and clear. Biblack was not someone that would be described as weak-willed, then again he felt he had no reason to be suspicious or on the defense here, in his favorite bar, and talking to this apparently pleasant boy… And Azrael therefore found very little resistance.

The suggestion of various needs and wants firmly imprinted in the older human's mind, Azrael soon had a job out of Biblack's Overhaul Shop… a starship repair facility who serviced its fair share of smugglers and outlaws, located in the city's Industrial Sector… and a room located over the main garage space. It was sparsely furnished and only had one small window… but to someone coming from the merciless Drongar, it might as well have been a luxury suite.

From there, Azrael quickly became a part of the Lola Curich community. Working in the shop during the days, he met and listened to many travelers and visitors… both on official and unofficial business… bring all sorts of news and rumors about life on Lianna and the galaxy at large… From the latest gossip on the ruling Santhe family to the Empire's brief retaking of Coruscant… Azrael took in every detail. Life in the Outer Rim could become isolating… but he would not be here forever.

He also began to learn mechanics, and workings of spaceships… what made them do what they did, and how to put them together. Azrael even brought in his old V-19 starfighter to work on, and after not so long had it flying again … Developing other strengths and abilities… His use of the Force would not become a crutch. He would prosper along with it, not just because of it…

And at night, Azrael would tour the major Lianna cities…expanding his Force senses as far as he could… the massive flow of emotions, dangers, thrills, feelings, anger, sadness and ecstasy threatening to overwhelm his young mind… But it wouldn't. He would not allow it. He would learn from it, how to take advantage from it, riding the immense tide of life energy to his benefit… Finding where the strengths and weakness where… where destinies and fates could, and would, be changed…

After a few months, Azrael… 'Guelim' actually … became a recognized sight around Lola Curich… Besides his duties in the Overhaul Shop, he ran errands and did favors to citizens of increasing standing… aided by an occasional subtle push from the Force… First smugglers and spacers, later small businessmen, and not much long after, substantial businessmen,..

And all the while, as Azrael kept ingratiating himself with the higher echelons of Liann society, he learned their secrets, both good and bad. Knowledge was an immense source of power, and his was growing as he was ever present when something needed to be done, and almost invisible when he was not… yet he was there nevertheless.

Then, as the weather began to turn colder and the onset of autumn took hold, Azrael came to the notice of prominent Chev… a humanoid species from the planet Vinsoth… entrepreneur Orman, the owner of the Sky Palace, and suspected spy for the Galactic Empire. Asides from his regular staff, Orman employed groups of thugs as guards provide protection to himself and his various investments. Yet dabbling as he frequently did in black market sales, he was also in need of someone who could discreetly maneuver in the background, out of sight, and obtain / deliver the information and product he needed… Enter Azrael into a familiar role...

Before long, a jubilant Orman reveled in the increased profits that a sudden influx of used, but well-preserved, military components… secretly brought in from Drongar by Ryam through Biblack… began to fill his warehouses. Azrael innocently claimed to have just heard things here and there, and introduced folks together. Nevertheless, Orman was grateful and the boy's stock was on the rise.

With the winter winds now blowing, Azrael finds himself living in more spacious accommodations, further north within the upper levels of the Sky Palace. From here, he has access to even more influential persons… a lot of which would develop a desire to take the nice young man under their wing. One of these persons was Lord Rodin Hlian Verpalion.

Verpalion was a human and Imperial noble that, during the height of the Rebellion, had been assigned to oversee the Empire's NOVA project in Lianna, whose purpose was to develop a cloaking shield for their ships. The project had failed, mostly due to the efforts of a hidden Rebel cell on the planet, and Verpalion's star ended loosing a lot of his luster. Permanently relegated to Lianna, which he detested and considered no more than a backwater dump, Verpalion had determined to continue to elevate his station in life. And he went about this by continuing to try and curry favor with the ruling Santhe family… leading to unsubstantiated rumors that he had seduced, Valle Santhe's young granddaughter Miri, the heir to the Santhe fortune… and by eliminating anyone that got in his way. Because, even though he appeared to be a friendly and generous man, Verpalion was more than capable of shocking cruelty and killing for pleasure.

Lord Verpalion first took notice of Azrael during a meeting with Orman regarding information to funnel back to the upper echelons of the Empire. The pair of Imperial sympathizers were debating how to send some datacards to Byss, a world in the galactic Deep Core and new throne world of the reborn Emperor Palpatine. Azrael, who had come in during their talk to drop off some documents for Orman casually said to them, "I can take them to Biblack's shop and have them transported to this smuggler, Ryam Quis. She's friends with Dana Galvason, who makes supply runs to Byss all the time."

Between the conflicting emotions of surprise, delight, anger and suspicion, all Verpalion could blurt out was, "Who is this boy again, Orman?"

The Chev smiled proudly at the fortune of coming out looking well in front of the noble and answered, "That's my young protégé, Guelim."

"Well if what he is says is true, he has just saved us a lot of effort," Verpalion replied. Then as he got up to leave, he ran his fingers through the boy's thick black hair and added, "Look into what he said, Orman… And thanks for the help, kid." And as Verpalion headed out the door, his thoughts were on how best to exploit the newfound direct connection to the Empire's capital world… and the pressing feeling in his mind that he should get to know Guelim a lot better.

When year 10 ABY rolled around, bringing forth the end of winter and ushering in Azrael's 10th birthday, 'Guelim' had moved once more, this time across the river to Lianna City, and the exclusive Posh Sector to the south… To the guest quarters of Lord Verpalion's mansion… The vibrancy within the Force was stronger in this region and surrounding areas than anywhere else he had been to on the planet, and he took it as a sign that his training and progression where headed in the right direction. In just under a year, he had gone from a homeless, shipwrecked immigrant to residing within the aristocracy of the Lianna.

His main task now revolved around being the eyes and ears for Lord Verpalion, and letting him know about anything that could assist in furthering his career. This shift in duties did not sit well with Orman, who did not appreciate having his young employee whisked away without consultation. But Orman also knew what Verpalion was capable of, and did not push the issue too hard, lest he found himself the victim of an unfortunate accident.

But tonight, his attention was elsewhere. Azrael could feel the pull of the Force, stronger than before, urging him on… outside… towards the Santhe Estate. So after midnight, after he was certain everyone on the household had gone to sleep, Azrael slipped out a window and started in that direction.

There was little cover from Verpalion's house to the Santhe's, and Lianna's lone moon was out and in full phase, so Azrael, clad in black, had to hurry if he wanted to remain unspotted. Driving his strong legs… made so after countless runs across Drongar… Azrael traversed the distance rapidly and in one Force-aided bound, was up and over the tall, permacrete fence that surrounded the property. From there, it was a matter of focusing his 'danger sense', avoid the foot patrols, then following the Force to general around that permeated the strongest.

Once Azrael got close enough, he could sense two distinctive pulls… One that came from a balcony high up above him, and a second one along the ground floor. Still too inexperienced to read these premonitions, Azrael was uncertain what these feeling meant… but knew he should follow them. He spotted a large bush nearby and scurried towards it. Thanks to his still small frame, he slid into it, further concealing his presence while at the same time giving him a clear view through an immense window that was part of a massive room.

Certain no one had spotted him, Azrael took out a pair of electrobinoculars that he had 'borrowed' from Orman several months ago, and peered inside…. uncertain what he was looking for. He noticed several pieces of artwork, flags and tapestries, and many expensive-looking pieces of furniture… Suddenly, the light from the moon shone at just the right angle, flooding the room with its natural radiance. Azrael was then drawn to a glint… perhaps from a metallic object he had yet to notice. He focused his attention on it, and zoomed in for a better look. It was then that he knew what he was supposed to see…

Along the back wall, mounted like a hunting trophy, was a lightsaber.

Chapter 9

Over the course the following week, Azrael found it hard to focus on his duties as his thoughts kept going back to the lightsaber at the Santhe mansion.

Azrael had never seen that type of weapon before, but had heard enough stories about them to know what it was, what it did, and whom they belonged to. Add to it that the course his master… he thought that word so matter-of-factly that he did not even realized he had… a former Jedi Knight and Sith Lord had led him here convinced Azrael that this was not a coincidence, but part of a much larger picture he had yet to make out.

He also kept focusing his thoughts on Revan, hoping he'd appear and answer his questions. But hard as he tried, the former Jedi / Sith did not reveal himself. So if he was going to solve these mysteries, Azrael was going to have to do it himself… Undoubtedly, to further his training as well.

So two nights later, Azrael found himself skulking through the Santhe grounds again. He peered through the same window and saw the lightsaber sitting right where he had seen it before… and the thought of getting his hands on it entered his mind shortly afterwards. The tingling at the back of his head reminded him how dangerous to attempt that would be, but he had made up his mind… and in matter of seconds he had climbed up a nearby tree and catapulted himself up and over into the balcony from where he had earlier sensed a pull from the Force.

A pair of locked Transparisteel doors, the only way to open them being a proximity sensor that undid the magnetic seals that held them in place, barred entry inside. Impossible to break through, impossible to undo the seals…

He was inside an instant later, having pulled a chair towards the doors… with a little help from the Force… its mass triggering the door sensors. Azrael now found himself inside a small bedroom, its occupant a young human girl… which Azrael noticed after spending a few moments trying to locate an exit from the dimly lit space… who was sitting up in her bed and looking directly at him.

Azrael froze, unsure what to do next. Everything had seemed so clear a moment ago… A pull from the Force, a simple way inside, a lightsaber within the house… But his senses had not alerted him to the presence in the room… Sloppy.

"Hi." The simple greeting from the girl snapped Azrael out of his trance, and he responded in the manner that first popped into his head… "Hi."

The girl did not scream, run or made any sudden movements, so Azrael settled down bit when she spoke again and asked, "Who are you?"

"Azrael," he replied, conscious that he was using his real name, yet feeling it was the right thing to do, then added, "Sorry for coming into your room."

"That's fine. I do not get many visitors. Actually… I do not get any at all… I'm Karala… Karala Santhe."

The sadness that Karala projected when she said this tugged at Azrael, so he walked closer and sat on the edge of her bed. He recognized her last name and figured her to be part of the ruling family, although he had never heard of her before. She seemed to be close in age to Azrael … maybe a little older… with very long black hair. There also was something else vaguely familiar about, just out of the edge of Azrael's perception… Her skin was slightly more tanned than the other Santhes… and she had a small, yet distinctive birthmark on her right cheek… close to the edge of her mouth. Just like… like… Lord Verpalion's!

"Who are your parents?" Azrael asked her with a gentle Force suggestion that exuded calmness…

"My mom is Miri Santhe. I never met my father though. I've been told he's dead… I think they're lying."

The Force pressure that he had been ignoring increased inside Azrael's head, and he realized this was the other item he was meant to see… his benefactor's illegitimate daughter, tucked away inside the Santhe Estate. And with that revelation, he got the inkling that it was time to head out. The lightsaber would wait until another time… "I am sorry I woke you. I just had a feeling that I should come in here. I hope you are not mad… Please don't tell anyone I was here."

"I won't… as long as you come by and visit again."

Almost imperceptibly, Azrael scanned the Force for any signs of danger and, not noticing any, he trusted his feelings and replied, "Sure… Better yet, why don't me meet outside somewhere?" … Not just because it was likely safer to do so, but also because he wanted to. He accepted, and even craved, the path he was now in, yet he was still a child, and he missed interactions with others his age. Fortunately, his training required he immersed himself in the Liann community, and this would be to that end, and tie in to the ruling family no less…

"I can't… Not by myself at least. I am not allowed to go out without an escort."

"Don't worry… I'll be back here tomorrow at the same time."

And in a flash, Azrael was gone. Karala had just enough time to get out of her bed and see a small figure darting around the front lawn before she lost track of it.

The next night, Azrael returned to find Karala waiting for him. He flashed her a boyish smile and in two bounds was up the tree and unto the balcony. Then, before Karala could even yelp in surprise, Azrael grabbed her hand and whisked her up and over the railing to the ground below. They spent the next couple of hours like neither had in a long time… being carefree children.

Azrael and Karala ran and played, laughed and talked while everyone else slept, ignoring the rules and regulations and expectations set on them… a young Force user and an offspring of the planet's ruling family… and simply had fun. The following night Azrael returned to the Santhe Estate, and again the night after that. A week into their burgeoning friendship, Azrael could identify her aura from amongst the crowds of Lianns walking the streets of the capital city, and 'accidentally' bump into her and her escorts… much to her delight.

Of course, as the old saying goes, all good things must come to an end…

He felt the tingle of trouble approaching soon after meeting Karala as she left her school grounds… the one brief time she was alone. As the two were talking, Azrael closed his eyes and sensed the three figures behind them, along with their intent… nasty, but not evil. But trouble for sure…

Azrael turned to see three young human males standing behind them, a fairly tall, thin one flanked by a pair of shorter, stouter ones. The tall one was glaring at them, a devious grin on his face when he said, "Who's your new friend, Shag-tala?"

Karala's face flushed with anger, yet she stood her ground against her much larger antagonist, "None of your business, Dax! Now why don't you move along, slimesucker?"

Dax took a few steps closer towards them, the annoying grin still on his face, and replied, "I guess you are right, Shag-tala… Why should I care what a mongrel is up to?" He then eyed Azrael and added, "A mongrel and a runt that is."

Yes, definitely trouble… for them.

Azrael stepped in front of Karala, and said to her as he stared back at Dax, "Is this son of a barve bothering you?"

He then felt Karala walk close behind him, put a hand on his shoulder and whispered softly but with unmistakable anger in her voice, "Yes he is."

"Oh really? What are you going to do ab…" Dax began to interject, but was not able to finish as he suddenly found himself flying backwards through the air… as if propelled by some invisible force… not much longer after Azrael's glare towards him had turned to a smile of his own… and his right arm extended towards where Dax's chest used to be.

Dax's cohorts turned in horror just in time to see their leader slam against the thick trunk of a nearby tree, then fall motionless to the ground. Trembling, they returned their scared gazes back at Azrael, who was stilling smiling and said to them, "You should check on your friend. He does not look so good."

The two sprinted away without saying a word, leaving Azrael and Karala laughing and smiling at each other. She then gave him a soft kiss on the cheek and said, "Thanks. No one has ever stuck up for me before."

"He deserved what he got. He did not seem very nice."

"He was not. He's been tormenting me for a long time… How did you do that?"

"Can you keep a secret?"

Azrael proceeded to tell her everything… His family's murder, his journey to Drongar, his life in Lianna… and his attenuation with the Force. And instead of sensing surprise or even fear, Azrael felt just acceptance, awe… and a level of appeal. He was just not certain if it was for him… or his power.

"Well, you better go. My escorts will be here soon," Karala then said as she walked back towards the entrance of the school, "Will you come over tonight? I have a gift for you."

Azrael smiled widely at her, then discreetly headed out in the opposite direction as Karala but, with his mind still on her, he did not sense the focus a nearby set of eyes had on him… nor the less than kind intent behind them. Neither did he that night when he arrived at the Mansion…

But so focused was he on seeing Karala, that he sensed her growing feelings of excitement and expectation from quite a ways away. His heart pounded hard inside his chest as he ascended towards the balcony in what he thought was excitement… then realized it was the Force drumming inside him like a beamdrill. And when he saw what was in Karala's right hand, Azrael felt as if his heart would explode. It was a shiny, silver cylinder… the hilt of a lightsaber. The one he had seen that first name he came to the Estate.

"Was this what you came for when you first came here?" Karala asked him with feigned innocence, "I think you should have it."

Azrael said nothing, nor did he have to. He reached to grab the lightsaber from Karala's extended hand… and his mind was suddenly flooded with images projecting from it… from its past… and its previous owners.

He was Jedi Master Cei Vookto, a male Duros and General during the _Clone Wars_. He had died on this planet over 30 years ago, during the _Battle of Lianna_ as the Republic Army troops under his command engaged the invading forces of the Separatists in protection of planet's starship building facilities.

After Master Vookto's demise, Neb Viesda, a Santhe/Sienar Technologies field engineer, recovered his lightsaber from the battlefield and presented it to Raith Sienar, the company's CEO at the time. Sienar was a dispassionate man, who considered excessive emotion a weakness, and found appeal only in mental and intellectual challenges. In these, he fostered a secret kinship with the Jedi, and kept the battle-scarred lightsaber in his office both as an exotic decoration and as a silent compliment to them.

Nearing the end of his reign, Sienar bequeathed the lightsaber to Valles Santhe once she assumed control of the company. In turn, Lady Santhe moved the piece over to her Estate and put it on broader display, as a symbol that even the powerful Jedi, in a sense, served her family and their holdings.

Azrael pulled his hand back, gripping the lightsaber tightly in it, thinking how right… and wrong… it felt. Having such a weapon at his disposal felt fitting, but not this one. He would have to make his own, an extension of his own hand and the flow of the Force from it. But this one would do, for now at least. Karala as well appeared to agree with this assessment, "It fits you. Better than just gathering dust on a mantle… Now you are really dangerous."

The boy sensed that same feeling he received from Karala every time he flashed a glimpse of his power, and continued to what she truly felt about that side of him. But his thoughts they heard someone approaching her room. The two exchanged looks in which they agreed their meeting was over, with Karala hurrying to bed while Azrael sprang back to the nearby treetop. Sensing nothing but relaxed feelings from Karala as the visitor entered her room, Azrael deemed her safe and headed to his home. Such feelings would not continue for long though…

Working on his starfighter the next day, Azrael was jolted by a power feeling of panic from Karala. Immediately focused, he grasped it as it was his own, and felt as if he could almost see the scene playing out through his own eyes. He saw a large human male… Lord Verpalion! … approaching Karala… He felt the man's hand hit Karala across the face as if he had been hit himself… He could hear the man's angry, hate-filled words ringing in her ears… "You enjoy making me look stupid?! … being a whore like your mother… should stay locked up as you always had… everyone knows… laughs..."

Then, as if feeling him reaching out to her, Azrael felt Karala mentally scream, "Help me!!" He was gone in an instant, her cries serving as a beacon clear as any.

Now it was against Liann law, plus incredibly dangerous, to fly a ship at ultra low altitude within the city limits, but Azrael was more than halfway to the Santhe Estate before that thought even registered as he flew through the tall spires that rose in front of him… He had tapped into that zone again where his anger and emotions gave him, he felt, a razor's edge. Someone was about to pay… to suffer… very soon.

He landed hard on the front lawn of the Estate in a matter of minutes, then burst out of the cockpit, began to run towards the familiar tree and Karala's balcony then stopped. The anguish, the pain was not coming from above but from… below… Azrael had never been inside the main mansion, so he closed his eyes and focused on Karala. The feelings of rejection at her father's words were so intense Azrael almost cried. His own father, Guelim Cal, had been his hero and role model before he was taken away from him. His tears were dried though by a cauldron of anger at how a father could treat his child in such a way… while his father, so loving and kind to him, was gone. He then let his connection to Karala guide him in, through and down the house… and into what she visualized as her torture chamber.

Azrael approached the room and saw Verpalion standing over Karala, who was lying on the floor, cringing away from him, several red welts on the sides of her face, blood dripping from her mouth and nose. The sight in front of him took Azrael back to that horrible day in Roon… the murder of his family… and he felt the power of the Force rising to a fever pitch within him. But unlike the uncontrolled spasm back then, Azrael was in full control of his faculties this time… and far more dangerous.

And as he stepped inside, he heard Verpalion say, "I should have stuck this into your mother's stomach when I had the chance. That way I wouldn't have had to put up with all the ridicule and embarrassment." That was when Azrael saw the dagger in his right hand… and when Karala saw him.

Verpalion notice the girl looking at something behind and turned to see silhouette of a small boy standing by the doorway. Verpalion merely laughed mockingly at him and said, "I'm glad you came over... Probably looking to screw my daughter, right? And find your way into this big house as part of the family perhaps… Without all the disdain, back talk and poisonous looks… Well, you saved me the trouble of finding you, you mudcrutch whelp." He then peered down at Karala and added, "She's as much of a tease as her mother, isn't she?"

Vepalion did not think Azrael would have the nerve to attack him... or even that he had a weapon... and if he did, it would be nothing of note. He was wrong on all three counts…

As he approached Azrael with his right arm waving from side to side, the sharp blade cutting through the air in front of him, Verpalion was suddenly too shocked to scream, his attention now becoming far more focused on seeing said arm laying on the floor… so soon after still being attached to the rest of his body... So stunned was he that he did not even recall hearing the distinctive 'snap hiss' or seeing the flash of green light that preceded it.

And when the pain signals finally reached his brain, he still did not scream, as fear gripped him more strongly than physical agony... the sight of the fierce looking young man in front of him, clad in a dark cloak and with... it almost seemed... eyes that glowed a dark orange, standing menacingly in front of him.

Several thoughts and words crossed his mind, but he was not able to utter any of them though, as his head soon joined his arm on the floor.

Karala had seen all of this and now bounced up and raced towards Azrael, nearly knocking him down when she crashed into him in a big embrace.

"I knew you would come!" was all she said, as the fear for her life finally started to drain from her soul. But their moment was interrupted by the sound of someone clearing their throat in an obvious attempt to gain their attention.

Azrael turned and re-ignited the lightsaber, opening his Force senses and taking stock of the figure in front of him… that of a small, old woman…

"Ga'ma!"

Azrael relaxed slightly as it became obvious Karala knew the woman and had reacted to her presence with a level of affection… and when the woman drew closer he recognized her face… Valles Santhe, Karala's great-grandmother, the matriarch of the Santhe family and CEO of the powerful Santhe Corporation.

"Well done, young man. I had always wondered if that relic still worked," Valles now said as she approached the young couple, "And thank you for coming to my great-granddaughter's rescue. Verpalion has been a thorn in my side for many years… and I have never forgiven him for what he did to Miri. How I hated him."

Reaching the two, Valles glanced at them, then at the decapitated body on the floor, "First we will need to dispose of this… discretely. Although I doubt anyone will miss him." She then trained her dark eyes on Azrael and added, "Then is also the question of what to do with you.

Azrael had no doubt he could cut Lady Santhes in half before she took even one step closer towards him… and would do so without hesitation if it became necessary… but as he felt no outward feelings of malice coming from her towards him, he stayed his hand and simply returned her cursory glare. The two continued to stare at each other until Valles finally said, "Most Lianns would have wilted under my silent… examination… by now."

Starting to sense a level of acceptance mixed in with curiosity, Azrael replied, "It takes more than a stare to scare me."

"So I see… And do not worry. I have no desire to dispose of you as well. Particularly as my dear Kara' has become quite fond of you… and you of her."

Azrael said nothing, as him and Karala had gone to great lengths to ensure their visits remained private. But his silence was enough of a statement for Valles…

"Do not seem so surprised. Everyone in my household is under constant surveillance, lest they go on and do something that might not be in the best interest of the Corporation. So I know of your frequent visits and excursions beyond the Estate grounds."

"And since you have done nothing to prevent them, I guess you don't mind them, right?"

"That's one way of looking at it… Another is that I have been evaluating a new opportunity."

Azrael felt a tickle from the Force, the one that he usually had when he came to a metaphorical fork in the road leading to his future. He would have to proceed carefully now until Lady Santhe played the rest of her hand… "And what might that opportunity be?"

Valles smiled at him coyly and replied, "Why you my dear… what else? Let me explain… For quite some time now I have been looking for an heir apparent to someday take over the Corporation. My son Phillip is a cold manipulator but, I am sorry to admit, is not particularly intelligent. My grandson Kashan is brash, dashing and bright, yet much too often takes on more than he can handle. I love both of them dearly but their biggest flaws would be amplified even more at the head of the table. And Miri, she is so sweet and kindhearted… she would not be able to deal with all the ruthlessness that comes with my position, nor would I want her to try. That leaves Karala here and perhaps… you."

Now Azrael had climbed up the Liann social ranks at dizzying speeds, and dealt with all sorts of people and personalities along the way. But the strength of will he sensed from Valles Santhe outshone the ones from all the others. Azrael felt he could not underestimate her for an instant… yet he had just killed his benefactor, and now she seemed to be offering a new path to even higher standing. Just the thing he now needed… coincidence, part of a plan, the will of the Force… all… none? Regardless of which, it was a chance he needed to take… She saw him as an opportunity, not the other way around as it really would be… It was just a small detail she did not need to know…

"Are you always this generous with strangers?" Azrael decided to reply with, deciding not to sound too eager…

"No. And bear in mind I have given you nothing nor promised anything, so do not count on my generosity just yet."

"Of course not… Please continue, my Lady," Azrael responded, masking his sarcasm and instead subtly pouring out feelings of confidence. Valles was strong, and a big push would have been noticed… But a slight nudge helped Valles feel even more certain of her instincts about the boy.

So she followed up by saying, "Now I have had my eye on you for quite some time. Everyone of note in Liann is. And as much as I hated Verpalion, the man did have a sense for business. And he clearly saw something in you as well. You have accomplished much… in a manner of speaking… in a short amount of time. That shows your strong drive and instincts. The way you came to Karala's aid shows your compassion. And the way you cut down Verpalion… Well, that speaks volumes as well… Just do not ever try that sort of thing with me."

"Because of the hold-out blaster tucked inside your sleeve?"

The casual way in which Azrael pointed this out left Valles no choice but to laugh in amazement. She looked at him carefully once more and added, "Young man, you are a catch indeed! Now since you have disposed of your host, I invite you to accept accommodations within my Estate. There is an unoccupied guesthouse in the South grounds that should suit your needs."

"My Lady, I would be honored."

"You can also drop the 'my lady' act around me. Seeing what you can do, it comes off more as sarcasm… But by all means keep it up in front of others. And after we have put some distance between us and tonight's events, we will introduce you to my staff and the rest of the family. I will even set up something relatively minor for you to do, which will mask your true role here… Nothing wrong with a little white lie, right Guelim?"

_You have no idea_… thought Azrael as he merely nodded in apparent submissive agreement. He also gave Karala an almost indiscernible look, guiding her to remain silent at the mention of his alternate name…

"Now, if you don't mind," Valles then curtly stated, signifying that their discussion was over and he was being asked to leave, "I will have one of my utility droids dispose of our friend here. Go to his place and clean out your possessions. I will have another droid meet you at the Southeast entrance. No reason for you to skulk around here like a common criminal anymore."

Azrael turned to leave but Lady Santhe added one final piece of advice, "Oh, and no more midnight visits to Miri. You will see enough of her around the house… And we don't want to give anyone that might be looking the wrong impression."

Without turning, Azrael said back, "Were you ever going to help her? Or were you planning to just sit back an watch?"

Azrael felt annoyance and scorn emanating from Valles, while at the time three Viper probe droids hovered out of the shadows around him. She then said coolly, "As you can see, boy, Verpalion was going to end up in pieces one way or another. I did wait, as when I saw your ship headed this way, I figured either you or him would be dying soon. So it seemed more efficient to let things play themselves out... Sorry Kara', just business."

"I need to start watching her, not the other way around", was Azrael's final thought as he then slipped out of the room.

Chapter 10

That night, as he settled into yet another new home, Revan's Force ghost appeared to Azrael after a long absence… and clearer than it had ever been. Azrael could, for the first time, see the features in his face, the purpose and conviction behind his brooding eyes, his human appearance…

Revan now gazed at Azrael, master and student locking eyes… But for the first time in their relationship, Azrael spoke the first words, "I sensed through the Force that my actions today had set major events in motions. And your presence here confirms me."

_You are right… on both matters._

"What is going to happen?"

_That is yet to be determined… and it will all be up to you._

"I know you have been holding back on me… since the beginning. So tell me what you _think_ is going to happen... What is it that you are really preparing me for?"

The pause from Revan made Azrael realize that it would be something significant. He did not sense malice from Revan… never had… and felt secure the answer would be truthful… And in the end, Azrael was still not ready for its magnitude…

_I am preparing you to be the Dark Lord of the Sith…_

For a while, Azrael was speechless. He knew Raven has been a Dark Lord, but also that in the end he had been redeemed, and even saved the Republic from being destroyed by his former apprentice, Darth Malak.

And yes, his master had introduced himself not only as a Jedi Knight, but also as Darth Revan . Was his plan now for Azrael to pick up where he had left off? That Revan was implying that the path of the Light he had followed afterwards was wrong?

Yet as frightening as that prospect sounded, Azrael was surprised that he did not felt fear or anger at the revelation. If anything, it was… expectation. He had felt the Force… the Dark Side of the Force… coursing through him as he had commanded the beasts from Roon to attack Macha, when he had assaulted Gaff and when he had killed Verpalion… And he liked how it felt… If this is what his master wanted him to do, he indeed could…

_I can sense your feelings, young one… Your confusion… So let me clarify… Your ascension through the Dark Side is meant to bring balance to the Force. The Light is the dominant faction now, and grows stronger with each passing day… The Jedi survived the Purge and have once more assumed power while the Sith Order teeters on the edge of extinction… _

_But this cannot remain so. In order for one to exist, so must the other. Balance cannot exist without counteracting weights… forces… constantly playing off against each other… One reaching the top while the other swings to the bottom… only to swing back again and take its rightful place at the top… The Jedi of recent times seek balance by eliminating the Dark Side… But that cannot be. It is not the right path… The Dark Side is inevitable… _

_I learnt this through my travels to and beyond the Outer Rim… After I left my friends and loved ones behind… But by the time I realized its significance, it was too late for me to put it into play… For a long time I searched and waited, postponing my entry into the netherworld of the Force… until you were born…_

"Me? Why me?"

_4,000 years ago, as I traveled through the bowels of Taris, I was severely injured by some of the beasts that used to dwell there. I returned to the Undercity in search of help and found the local healer… She did not know it, but she was Force sensitive… When she healed my wounds, our Force essences merged and part of me transferred over to her… You, Azrael, are a descendant from that healer… My Force essence has been transferred to you and finally blossomed, and awakened your hidden power… I am a part of you and you a part of me… _

All this was almost too much for Azrael to take in, yet it all made sense… It explained why he had felt kinship to the dark figure of his dreams early on. They were related… Not blood related, but Force related.

"And if I was born at a different time… would you be training me differently?"

_Yes… If you had been born during the reign of Darth Sidious, you would have followed the Light… But the Force did not will it that way. That is why it created Anakin Skywalker. To bring balance. And for a while, he did… Anakin strengthened the Light, then help usher in the return of the Sith… Then he ended them and his offspring ushered in a new era of Light … But Luke Skywalker does not aim for a true balance… That is what you will do… And where you will succeed where others have failed…_

But even as he took it all in, another question came to Azrael… A very substantial one in his estimation…

"But even if I bring the Dark Side back to power, you have said that the Light must eventually take over once more…"

_Yes… The Light Side is also inevitable…_

"Then will not all I work for eventually fail? Why should I even bother?"

_Because when the time comes for you to take on an apprentice, you will teach him to follow the Light and to lead the Jedi… _

Understanding came like an explosion to Azrael as he finally understood Revan's plan… "And then his own apprentice…"

… _will follow the path of the Darkness… Such has never been attempted before. That is why it will work…_

"Yes, yes… I… understand. It is all destined to happen. It has to happen… but this time…"

_It will be controlled, not left to chance. A balance of the Force will finally be achieved… _

"Yes. But first…"

_You must return the Sith to glory…_

Chapter 11

Azrael reached the Cal homestead and took stock on unkind the years had been to it. Vegetation had grown all around it, covering the roof and walls while the grass out in front reached just under his chin. But apart from esthetics, the house appeared undamaged.

He waded his way through the small jungle and reached the front entrance. Azrael then waved his hand at it and stepped inside, the Force lock undone and the automatic slider pulling the door out of the way. Being basically hermetically sealed, the inside air still carried traces of the smell of blood… the blood of his family that was spilt on this very floor. Anger and sadness welled up inside him, but Azrael pushed them aside. He was here for a purpose, so he headed upstairs and to his old room.

Stepping inside, he saw everything as it had been when he left it all behind. And as he stared at his old bed, his mind returned once more to Lianna.

Following the events at the Santhe Estate, Azrael's life went into overdrive. Lady Valles Santhe posted him at a non-descript 'courier' position on her staff, and the flow of information regarding the Corporation began to flow shortly afterwards. He had access to almost everything a high-level executive would have, reported directly to her and had no real duties except learning. This took most of his time during the day, when he would also wake up before sunrise to continue his physical training, while in the evenings he would concentrate on expanding his Force abilities.

Azrael also continued his relationship with Karala, meeting her in the mornings prior to heading out to the Corporation headquarters or, after some time, escorting her to and from her school. Word has spread across the campus after Azrael's encounter with Dax, and her now-former antagonists gave her a wide berth upon seeing her new escort's presence. But there was something that he still needed to learn… needed to know. And that was… how to be a Sith… How to be a true wielder of the Dark Side of the Force.

Yet that learning would be temporarily put on hold, because as well as his interaction was proceeding with the oldest and youngest members of the Santhe clan, it was not long until friction began with the rest of the family… in particular, those he was secretly being trained to replace.

After a couple of months, Azrael was 'promoted' to personal assistant to Lady Santhe, and his apparent omnipresence soon came to the attention of Valle's soon Philip. In his mind, he was the heir to the Santhe business empire and could not wait for his mother to finally step down. Unfortunately for him, that did not appear to be happening any time in the near future. Yet with his nemesis Rodin Hlian Verpalion having perished when his mansion accidentally burned down, he still saw his path to the top as a simple one. That is, until that quiet yet brooding young boy began to appear more and more often at his mother's side, and her attitude towards Philip began to radically change. It came as a great surprise to Phillip that they boy… Guelim he heard his name was… had been living within the Santhe Estate for several months within him realizing it, and even more so when he noticed how often he met with his granddaughter Karala, Verpalion's bastard.

Then as summer came to an end and fall began to take hold that year, Philip's son Kashan, another Santhe who saw himself as eventual ruler of the Corporation, came to his father and also began to express questions about 'Guelim'… How his was not the typical behavior for a mere assistant… That there was something very peculiar him... Having no idea where his Grandmother found him and why he is working in the Corporation… And the way that he looked at Karala.

Both decided they needed to find out where this Guelim came from and what his story really is, and what was the strange hold he most likely had on Lady Santhe and set off to do so.

Azrael meanwhile continued to inconspicuously learn at the side of his new benefactor, tending to his 'duties' that in turn allowed to first hand see the day-to-day operations of the Corporation… as well as become fully aware of the additional sets of eyes that now seemed to mirror his every move. Too bad they didn't know what poor job they were doing in remaining hidden. Both thought they were being discrete, but it is hard to hide your emotions from a Force user, particularly if you do not know there is one around.

But attention to that matter would have to wait, as Azrael also began to develop some skills that would be much needed in his future role… and he was not thinking of the one within the Corporation.

He had learned that Santhe Security… a subsidiary of Santhe Corporation who to this day still provided security forces for Imperial outposts and space station, as well as other Corporation interests… had moved their main training facility to the forest planet of Dennaskar. This planet had been the home of a secret Santhe/Sienar Technologies program, and the site of a battle between Rebel and Imperial forces, the latter supported by Santhe Security troopers, some years back. The Imperials came out on top, and the stock of the Santhe troopers rose sharply afterwards.

Now with the Empire in a sharp decline, the demand for the troopers was on the decline. But Santhe Corporation was as strong as ever, and fostering relations with the Galactic Republic, so there was still plenty of internal need for them. And to maintain recruit morale, the decision was made to centralize training on the site of one of their proudest recent memories. And at the Academy, personnel was trained in numerous security topics, including various types of unarmed and melee combat…

Just what a young Sith apprentice needed.

With Lady Santhe headed to planet Bonadan for a series of key meetings with Ulric Tagge, the head of the Tagge Company, regarding a potential partnership… the two being competitors in a number of military hardware fields… and expected to be away from Lianna for a number of weeks, Azrael took it as a great opportunity to go on an excursion himself.

So after passing along his plan to Karala, Azrael jumped in his V-19 Torrent starfighter, whose engines had been recently overhauled by technicians from Sienar Fleet Systems, and made the relatively short… in galactic terms… trip to Bonadan. Once there, he gained access once he was identified as being part of Valles Santhe's staff, and shortly after he had joined the troopers in the first of many training sessions.

At first though, the Security personnel was not keen with allowing a mere child participate in their strenuous regime. But after keeping up with them during a pair of conditioning runs, giving one of the larger troopers a powerful blow… with a little unseen aid from the Force… following a derisive putdown, and finally donning a combat mask wherever he went to hide his facial features, so the other troopers would not, as he put it to them, be embarrassed by seeing that it was mere child that was doing better than they were, he was finally allowed to participate.

What proceeded from there was a series of the worst beatings Alandres had ever received. During his thieving days in Roon, he had been involved in a few scrapes. And while in Drongar, he had to fight animals that wanted to either have him for dinner or did not care much for his presence in their habitat. But he had never actually gone faced individuals trained for dispensing damage. And that they did.

Showing most interest in personal combat, the Santhe troopers included him in their training sessions but did not hold back, just as Azrael wanted… no matter how painful it proved to be.

Several times Azrael felt as if he could sense their actions in the Force before they happened. But that felt like cheating. He was not there to see how far the Force could aid him in a fight, but to learn how to actually fight and fend for himself. Then he would tie the Force into it and take his skills to the next level… Not a crutch, but an enhancement… and a partner.

And he felt acceptance flow from the Force…

A couple of weeks later, he received word from Karala that Lady Santhe was on her way back to Lianna, so Azrael bid a temporary farewell to his new comrades, boarded his ship and began his own return trip… so battered and bruised that he could barely operate the controls, but satisfied at the progress he had made.

The follow-on weeks were not as pleasant though. Azrael picked up where he had left off as far as his duties to Lady Santhe went upon her return, and in doing so became aware of the increased scrutiny that his past had under from Philip and Kashan Santhe while he was away. With all that was now on his plate, including his plan to continue training with the security troopers, the last thing he needed was someone disturbing the carefully crafted life he had set up for himself in Lianna… So the activities of those two snoops would have to be stopped. And just like a Sith, it would be through subterfuge.

Over the next few days, several things began to occur to Philip and Kashan that made them concerned about their investigation… and their wellbeing. Computer meltdowns, evidence disappearing… and a few times, a glimpse of a dark silhouette, just for a moment, with what could almost be described as a pair of orange glows were eyes might have been, trailing them… stalking them… or was it their imagination?

But it was certainly not their imagination playing tricks on them when Kashan received a packet of data outlining his various contacts within the Rebel Alliance… something he thought off as secret… or when Philip found on his desk a hologram projection pod, showing him discussing with his staff his thoughts on how to expedite his mother's path to retirement… And with both items being accompanied by the rare golden mountain blossom, a known favorite of Lady Santhe and that bouquets of typically adorned her office, the father and son combo got the message loud and clear that the family matriarch did not wish for them to be looking into her affairs… at the risk of exposing theirs and the likely harsh consequences that would surely follow.

That would be the last they would look into the Guelim business… And Azrael had to fight hard to suppress a triumphant smile when he happened to run into them. Now though, he had to turn his attention to the Santhe women and the increasingly role they were playing in his life.

As the winter months set in and the year drew to a close, Valles Santhe's focus was strictly on Corporation business and their closeout figures, as well as the start of the upcoming fiscal year. During this time, she would bring 'Guelim' along so he could see for himself how things were run, the ultra high risk / reward workings that happened, as well as to familiarize the boy with all the power brokers that ran the various subsidiaries. She was also glad to give him his requested diversion to continue training with the Security forces.

With the recommendation from the Bonadan in hand… not to mention his standing in Lady Valles's staff… the local garrison accepted Azrael into their fold and allowed him to participate, and learn, in their training regimen. So as far as advancing his 'education' in these two critical areas, his relationship with Valles was as good as could be expected. The same though, he could not necessarily say about Karala.

As the year 11 ABY began to unfold, and Azrael's own 11th birthday was now just over the horizon, Karala turned 14 and was blossoming into a beautiful young lady. And with the newfound freedom that followed after her meeting Azrael, so did her confidence begin to blossom as well. And it became quite obvious that Karala had inherited certain traits from both her father and grandmother that would help boost those feelings of self-worth to even higher levels.

Now Azrael could feel that Karala was fond of him in many levels, as he was of her. But he could also distinctively sense that she also viewed him as almost a… tool? … weapon? … to help achieve her whims. She seemed almost giddy anytime he would flex some of his 'secret' power, and encouraged him to use it more and more. She enjoyed seeing him wield it, particularly when it also suited her needs. Yes, she had been nothing but kind and friendly to him, yet a nagging sense that things between them could get much more complicated if he did not remain alert would not leave him.

Her growing confidence and strive to become part of Lianna's elite was undeniable, and Azrael could clearly sense in the Force that his continued good standing, and chances for improvement, within the Santhe empire were best served by maintaining close ties with Karala. And the joining of these revelations made things clear for him. He could not afford to be blinded by her charms, but he could appear to be… and could in turn help guide her in the direction he preferred, and not the other way around… which would in turn make her great-grandmother very happy… Good thing duplicity is part of the ways of the Sith…

And these thoughts brought forth once more the hunger to truly begin to learn the ways of the Dark Side of the Force… stronger than ever before.

Then as spring rolled through, bringing to bear the one-year mark since Lady Santhe had taken him in, Azrael spent whatever free daytime he had away from the Corporation with the Security troopers, become more skilled in combat with each passing day. The sessions were going very well and he was becoming increasingly adept at defending himself… or imparting damage to others. When the first day of the Liann summer arrived, Azrael headed once more to Bonadan to participate in a commencement ceremony for the latest group of troopers. The unit considered 'Guelim' an honorary member, and wanted him to receive some level of recognition for the hard work he had put in. Expected from hardened troopers and recruits, but unheard of for a boy. That night, they had one last sparring session… and Azrael put on a show they would never forget.

He did not intended for it to be that way… it just happened. He had learned everything by his own prowess or any outside influence. But as hard as he tried, the use of the Force was becoming second nature to him… and he could not hold it any longer.

The exercise began and a group of recruits advanced simultaneously on Azrael. The close quarters, multiple attacker scenario was one that always left behind plenty of bruises on the subject in the middle… but not today. Azrael focused intently on the trooper directly in front of him, and suddenly everything seemed to slow down… Azrael even noticed shadow-like forms, resembling the attackers, radiating from their bodies, as if showing him in advance where they were likely moving towards.

In this manner, he easily dodged, parried and countered every blow… He punched, kicked and chopped unencumbered… And when a frustrated recruit picked up a nearby helmet and hurled it at him from behind, Azrael had already pivoted around and placed another unsuspecting recruit between them before the helmet had even left the other's hand… And to Azrael, this also had seemed slow and deliberate. To the others though, it had been a whirlwind of action that left them all in shocked silence. Stunned and confused…

Azrael, on the other hand, was a glowing beacon of strength and power in the Force… And he loved it…

Finally, on the second night since his return to Lianna, Revan fully appeared to Azrael for the first time since the revelation of his intended destiny over a year ago. But his appearance was different this time. He was wearing a mask… A mask that had originally been worn by a female Mandalorian during the massacre in the planet of Cathar during the devastating _Mandalorian Wars_… The infamous mask that Jedi Knight Revan had worn during his time as the Revanchist… and later as Darth Revan during the _Jedi Civil War_…

_It is time to elevate your training… To fully immerse yourself in the ways of the Force… In the ways of the Dark Side…_

Azrael rose from his bed, faced Revan and nodded in agreement…

_After you have taken this step, there is no going back Azrael…_

It did not escape Azrael's attention that this was the first time Revan had addressed him by name… or that he sensed a faint level of concern coming from him as well. Nevertheless, Azrael was ready, "There has been no going back since I killed Gaff. And my path was reaffirmed when I killed Verpalion. I am ready to move on, Master."

It was only a moment after he said it, that Azrael realized how he had addressed Revan… Yet it did not bother him. That was who they were, the master and the apprentice. Intent of bringing back the Sith… and balance to the Force.

_Those events were driven by emotion. This will be much harder. You will learn things you never knew existed, see things you never dreamed off and do things you never thought possible… Not just in magnitude, but in their severity… In the willful manner in which you will have to do things that others will consider shocking… even horrible. That is the way of the Dark Side._

_But you will not be a simple deliverer of evil and destruction, as some might label you… Do not become a monster, like so many of us did… You will do what you have to for a purpose larger than yourself… You will do it for the greater good, even though most will not appreciate it... But the random and misguided flow of events that now plague the galaxy cannot be allowed to continue unchecked, Azrael... This must be done… By you._

"I understand, Master. And I still accept this challenge."

_Trravel to the Tascollan Nebula. Within it floats an asteroid, and on its surface… an ancient Sith temple, and within it… one of the few surviving Sith holocrons. The temple was built by Valik Kodank, a Sith Lord that lived 5000 years ago. Retrieve the holocron and your training will continue in earnest …_

With those last words, Revan's ghost vanished, leaving Azrael once again alone with his thoughts. He went to the computer terminal in his room and looked up the location of the Tascollan Nebula, which showed to be beyond the range of his starfighter… But that would hardly stop him.

His mind made up, Azrael reached for his personal subspace transmitter and sent out a call to an old friend, "Ryam, could you please come give me a lift?"

**Chapter 12**

There was nothing special about the Tascollan Nebula or the small asteroid within it that the freighter _Hopeless Diamond_ now headed towards… Except, that is, for the temple located on the asteroid's surface… _The Temple of Pain_.

Built by Sith Lord Valik Kodank during the course of the _Great Hyperspace War_ over 5000 years ago, it housed the Tascollan Holocron. Near the end of the war, she and her followers traveled to the Temple, which they hoped to, through the use of their powers alongside Dark Side artifacts, move into the star at the center of the Nebula.

The effort was a failure, her followers were killed in the aftermath and Lord Kondak's Force ghost was forever entrapped within the temple walls. The holocron meanwhile remained suspended inside a repulsor field.

And all remained as such until the temple was discovered by a force-sensitive human, Thaum Rystra, during the late stages of the _Galactic Civil War_, in the year 7 ABY. Thaum fell under the influence of Lord Kondak, becoming her unwitting apprentice. Through a series of events, Thaum lured a group of New Republic agents to the temple, as her Master had plans to transfer her spirit into the body of one of them. But her plans once again backfired, as the Republic forces defeated the Dark Master and apprentice, yet liberating her spirit to finally enter the Netherworld.

Afterwards, the Republic team examined the holocron and yet, fearing its power, left it behind once they departed the asteroid. One of the few that had not been collected by either Darth Sidious or the Jedi Order. And it had remained undisturbed for the last four years... until now.

The boarding ramp of the _Hopeless Diamond _extended into the arid, rocky surface… and down it walked a young human male clad in a dark cloak, followed closely behind by an orange-skinned female Twi'lek. And as the young man's feet touched the surface and his eyes gazed towards the foreboding silhouette of the temple… the Temple of Pain… he was almost overcome by the intensity emanating from it… from the Dark Side of the Force.

_Be careful, the impact can be overwhelming_

Those had been his Master's words as Azrael departed Lianna for the nebula… He thought he was ready… He thought he was prepared… But he was not. The Dark Side was an assault on his senses as he had never felt. It was an almost physical sensation, reaching into his mind… his heart… his very soul… Finding his passion, his hate, his anger, his desires… But the young Sith steeled himself. This was what he came here for. He had murdered in cold blood, and had seen his family butchered before his eyes at a much too tender age. He was the apprentice of a former Dark Lord… what someday he would be himself. And coming face to face with the Dark Side was not going to dissuade him.

Yet Azrael did worry for his companion and turned around to face her, and briefly recalled their reunion prior to the trip to Tascollan. Ryam had reacted excitedly at his call and volunteered to flying immediately to Lianna to pick him, having not seen him in over two years. But something told Azrael that, for the time being, he should continue to keep his worlds apart. So to keep the Santhe clan unsuspecting, he said that, in the interest of broadening his horizons, he was going to do some exploring of the local area planets that were so vital to the Liann trade and economy.

Lady Santhe, who always seemed to encourage her young assistant's apparent insatiable thirst for learning, gave him her permission, and soon after Azrael boarded a commercial transport to the nearby world of Dellalt, as Lianna also located within the Tion Hegemony, and sent word for Ryam to meet him there.

But when hearing of his impending departure, Karala asked to come with him as she very seldom got to travel off-world. But a subtle mental suggestion from Azrael to her father Philip, made simpler by the fact he still distrusted the boy, as he prepared to leave the Santhe Mansion and Karala soon found herself pouting and still stuck planetside. Azrael though shot Philip an angry look, clearly noticed by Karala, and whispered to her as he went by, "I will miss you," thus ensuring his staying in her good graces… while unbeknownst of his orchestrating the situation.

Upon reaching Dellalt, he found Ryam was already at the spaceport when he arrived. Long days in the hot Drongar weather had made her thinner, her skin tanner… But it was obvious the black market Bota export had made her considerably wealthier, as her fancier clothes and upgrades to her ship attested to.

Their reunion was short, yet heartfelt, the two greeting each other like long lost relatives. During the ensuing trip, they brought each other up to speed on how their life had been since they had parted ways, Ryam adding how she had also been putting away a share of the Bota profits for Azrael. Everything quickly became as it used to be… as if they had just seen each other recently. That was until they reached their destination....

Now Azrael did not tell Ryam everything about his purpose for going to the nebula. He simply stated he needed to retrieve an old and very valuable item, which was rumored to be stored within a temple on the surface of the asteroid they were now approaching. The part about it being a Sith temple and a holocron what he was seeking, as well as his planned future role as Dark Lord, he kept to himself… Secrecy was also part of the Sith way…

He was already beginning to see what his Master had meant when they last talked. He did not enjoy having to keep his friend in the dark, but it had to be so… But Azrael also worried what would happen if Ryam were to recognize what the actual object was… Worried about what he would have to do to keep its existence secret.

Turning around and catching Ryam's eyes, Azrael focused his gaze on them and simply said, "I need to go alone. It might not be safe for you… Please stay here and watch the ship." Then before the confused Twi'lek could respond, he turned on his heels and headed towards the temple. And with every step, the call of the Dark Side became stronger…

Azrael bounded up the steps that led to the entrance to the foreboding structure, soon finding himself inside and traversing a series of rooms. At first he had been uncertain on how to find the holocron, but it soon became obvious the Force would guide him. So he opened up his senses and allowed the Force to flow through unencumbered. The result effect was fast and strong…

He began to have visions… dynamically vivid… of himself wielding his power, but to an extent that he had not yet reached, but that he would if he applied himself. Azrael could see… could feel… those around him pulsing with awe and fear, respect and admiration. This room… the _Room of Dreams_ as its builders had deemed it… was fueled by the Dark Side to show any who entered it images that would make them more susceptible to give into it. But for a Sith apprentice, it just served to reassure him of his purpose…

Continuing to move forward, Azrael followed through a winding hallway, which took him to another large room… and the style of visions immediately changed. Suddenly he saw a tall man with shoulder length black hair, clad in an equally black cloak, staring out the viewport of a starship at an approaching enemy fleet… Azrael then flashed to an image of apparently the same man, this time standing over the fallen bodies of several dead foes… of different species and genders… a lit lightsaber in his hand.

Then after seeing the man standing alone in a balcony atop an incredibly high tower, looking out at the landscape below, Azrael thought that there was something about his face that reminded him… of his own grandfather perhaps? … He had seen holo images of his maternal grandfather in his childhood home in Roon and remembered them clearly. His mother always said how much Azrael… Alandres… looked like him. And this man in his visions looked a lot like his grandfather as well… Except his cheeks were somewhat gaunter… his hair darker… his eyes… orange? … like… like… Azrael's were turning.

This vision was him… Azrael… what he would look like… who he could become… Dark Lord of the Sith… This was what one saw when you entered the _Room of Change_… what could be in store for you if you give in to the Dark Side…

And still he kept moving, through the next doorway, across a long hallway, up numerous steps and various levels… following the pull from the Force… until he reached the final room… the _Room of Dark Knowledge_.

And there, sitting atop an intricately carved stone pillar was small pyramidal shaped object… The holocron.

The Tascollan holocron was built during the time of the Old Sith Empire, when the immensily powerful Marka Ragnos ruled as Dark Lord of the Sith over 6000 years ago. Unlike many holocrons, this one had been created by not one, but three Sith, whose essences now served as its gatekeepers.

There was Dargous Tanmoul, a battlemaster who admired strength and brutality. From the holocron, he appeared dressed in a dark-colored Sith armor and carrying a large Sith sword. Next was Sansin Koriss, a Sith apprentice who appeared wearing long robes and large amounts of jewelry. Finally, there was Bavik Vannor, a former Jedi Knight who fallen to the Dark Side, whom he believed to be a great ally. He appeared though still wearing the simple robes he wore as a Jedi.

Azrael did not know it yet, but they, alongside his master Darth Revan, would become his teachers as he continued to follow down the dark path.

Azrael now drew near it, and the dark crystal at the holocron's apex appeared to begin to glow, growing brighter as the young Sith approached it. He could now also see various strange symbols and hieroglyphs etched across the entirety of the holocron's three sides.

He picked it up and instantly felt the essence of the Dark Side stored deep inside it… The holocron pulsated with it… He felt it surging through him and this dark unfiltered power gripped his body with such strength that he felt ill… dizzy… finding it hard to remain standing… Yet almost as quick as the feelings of discomfort came, they left. He could still feel the Force within the holocron, but he once more felt strong and steady… and almost sensed as if the holocron had… accepted him.

Azrael slipped the small pyramid into his shoulder satchel and hurried back to the ship. Revan had left traces in his mind hinting at the level of knowledge of the Dark Side, and the Force in general, that would be stored inside the holocron and he could not wait to access it. So intently focused on this was Azrael that he did not notice Ryam staring after he had climbed on board, without saying a word, and had just been standing and looking out one of the cockpit viewports with a sullen, far away look on his face.

"Did you find what you were looking for?"

He husky voice snapped him out of his trance and he turned towards her, "Yes… Yes, I did."

"Well? What is it?"

It had not occurred to Azrael until that moment what he would do once this simple, predictable question was asked. In his possession he now had a Sith holocron, an extremely rare repository of knowledge pertaining to the Dark Side of the Force. Information he would use to become a Dark Lord… Not exactly the type of topic you would bring up in regular conversation…

"Helloooo, Azrael… You still there? What did you find?"

"Nothing big. Just an old relic that the Corporation's archeology branch back in Lianna wanted me to find," he replied, hoping to end the conversation nonchalantly but already getting a feeling through the Force the way the events would start to play out as… and not liking what he sensed.

"Just an old relic? For which you called me out of the blue after almost two years? And for which came all this way with barely any explanation? Riiiight," Ryam replied doubtfully before flashing Azrael a wide grim… "Now come on… Stop being shy and how me what it is. I am not going to tell anyone."

Tentatively, Azrael reached into his bag, pulled out the holocron and held it out for Ryam to see. At first, she was not impressed and merely shrugged as if to concur… 'Just an old relic'… But as she continued to stare at the obscure symbols, the glowing crystal… the feeling of dread that came from it, and understanding suddenly dawned on her face… And Azrael knew the die was cast.

"That… that is a… a holocron. A Sith holocron!" Ryam blurted and caught herself between wanting to both reach for and back away from it. "I am certain of it! I know of a spacer that found one on Mustafar some years ago. Are you bringing it to that harpy? Did Valles Santhe put you up to this?!"

"It is not for her," Azrael replied somberly, "She does not know anything about it. It is… for me."

Ryam stared silently at him, not knowing what to say. She looked at the Azrael, then at the holocron, and then back to him. It had been a thousand years since the Sith were a force recognized around the galaxy by the general population. A long time before the evil Darth Sidious had taken over the Republic… unbeknownst to anyone for but a select few. To most today, he was simply Emperor Palpatine, not the Dark Lord of the Sith.

But to those that lived their life traveling around the farthest reaches of the galaxy, the stories of the Sith were more real… the rumors more frequent… rumors of surviving clans hiding out, waiting for the right moment… the old legends never fading.

And Ryam, having spent the majority of her life traversing the Outer Rim territories, had heard plenty about the Sith of old… And closer to home, she knew of Sha'ala Doneeta, a female Twi'lek who had been a personal aide of the notorious Count Dooku… also known as Darth Tyranus, Darth Sidious's second apprentice… during the _Clone Wars_, and who was known by her people to be a Force adept, her allegiance made clear by the Sith-like tattoos she bore on her lekku…. Yes, Ryam knew well what the Sith were supposed to be all about… what they did… how they did it… and why.

And that was when her current situation became clear to her… The unusual power and talent he seemed to have and exhibit… the rigorous training he adhered to and kept alluding about… and now traveling here, to this frightening place to find a Sith holocron… As impossible as it sounded…

Azrael wanted to become one of them… He was trying to become a Sith.

Ryam took a step back and could not hide the shock she was feeling. She continued to just stare in confusion at the boy she thought she knew and was barely able to get out, "F… for y… you? But… but why?"

Azrael stared back at her and simply replied, "You know why. I can sense that you do."

The somber way in which he said it sent a chill down Ryam's spine and she began to steadily back away from him, "You are just a child! Is this some sort of thrill seeking? That thing… what's inside, it's… it's… dangerous. Evil! Get rid of it before it is too late and you go too far down that path!"

"I will not…. And I already have."

His response, and the certainty that emanated from him, convinced Ryam that Azrael was too far gone. Somewhere, somehow he had become involved with Sith lore and it had gotten a hold of his mind. But he was still so young, it could not be too late to stop him from getting in too deep. She had seemed a glimpse of the power he had when in Drongar, and winced at the thought of what it would be like if he became corrupted. So she began to slowly reach behind her pilot's chair, hoping not to attract his attention… But by know, even before she made her move, Azrael had already surmised what she was up to and what she intended to do next, before she even made the decision herself…

"Don't do it… please," Azrael said before Ryam's had finished reaching the hidden compartment and pulled out the blaster that lay within… further increasing the confusion, fear and concern she was feeling. If he could sense what she was going to do before she actually did it…

Ryam was pulling on the trigger even before she brought the blaster around, hoping the move would be sudden and unexpected enough that Azrael would not be able to react in time. She was not aiming for him though, but for the holocron… The tome of perverted knowledge that would surely ruin his life. Perhaps if she could destroy it before he got to use it…

But the Force had already given Azrael a glimpse of what was to come. His sense fully extended, he felt the tendons in Ryam's finger begin to tighten before she had even pulled the blaster on him. By the time it was pointing at the direction he had been standing at, he had already moved himself… and the holocron… out of the way…

The bolt zipped by harmlessly and Ryam's blaster was flying through the air towards Azrael's outstretched hand even as she started in astonishment at the shower of bright sparks that jumped out from where her shot had hit some of the ship's controls. She then turned to watch her weapon land softly within Azrael's grasp. Terrified that Azrael would now turn the blaster on her in response to what he might perceive as self-defense, lunged for the holocron with her right hand, hoping he would not see the thin vibroblade sliding out her concealed sleeve sheath on her left… And herself not noticing how her output of emotions was being fueled by the presence of the Dark Side…

Under the merciless tutelage of the Santhe Security training corps, Azrael had seen such feign moves enough times that he would have spotted it even if he did not already sensed it through the Force. His fine-tuned combat instinct kicked in and he stepped into his attacker's lunge… that is how his mind saw the situation now… sliding inside the reverse arc of attack of the blade-wielding arm, safely blocking it and redirecting the blade point, all while his Master's previous words to him once more ringed inside his head…

_You will have to do things that others will consider shocking… even horrible_

Ryam could do nothing but gape aghast as she stared at the blade protruding from her mid-section and the purple blood dripping steadily from the open wound it had created. Feeling the life slowly seeping away from her, Azrael up closer from behind her and whispered, "Why? Why did make me do this to you? You could have just accepted it… or walked away."

"I… I could not let you do it… let you become a… a… monster."

_Do not become a monster, like so many of us have…_

"I will not let that happen… I am sorry, Ryam. I did not want it to end like this. I begged you not to," Azrael replied truthfully, but he could already tell that Ryam had not heard him as life had already left her body.

Azrael gently lowered her body to the floor as his eyes welled with tears…

_This will be much harder. _

Now he truly understood what his Master meant. He had only been back at the ship for a few minutes, yet they encapsulated everything Darth Revan had told him… This was the way of the Sith.

One thing he did not tell him though is how horrible it would all seem to him. That, apparently, was a lesson he had left his young apprentice to find out for his own. No doubt to either strengthen or break him. That was also the way of the Sith… The task ahead was not one for the weak… physically, mentally or spiritually. And as tears flowed down his cheeks, Azrael felt no shame in it. Revan had told him not to hide his feelings, but to draw strength from them. His friend was dead, by Azrael's own hand no less, and it saddened him greatly. And there was not shame in that…

He had seen through the Force what would happen and reacted without hesitation, in a situation that would have made most others waver… And he would do it again. He was just sorry his friend had to be a casualty… of his path… for the greater good… The way of the Sith.

Azrael wiped his eyes dry as he stood, and he felt the Force flow strong into him. He could sense a change had occurred… As on the night he killed Verpalion. He had taken one step forward… The path to his destiny strengthened.

Walking towards the pilot's chair, Azrael called over the astromech droid Ryam carried on with her in the _Hopeless Diamond_, "R6, plot a course to Drongar. There are some open items we need to close out before returning to Lianna."

**Chapter 13**

Azrael reached under the bed and pulled out the lockbox… Such an ineffective place to hide something, he know thought. But back then, back when he was an innocent child, the dark area under the bed might as well have been a dark cave on a distant planet. He placed the box on top of the bed and, with a wave of his hand, used to the Force to undo the safety lock that kept it closed. He pulled the top open and gazed at the contents inside… pictures, holo cards, coins… plus what he had come here to find… A roonstone.

He had taken the extremely valuable gem from the cache he had stolen from Gaaf's cronies all those years ago… The night in which the events that would inexorably take him down the path to the Dark Side had been fully engaged…

This particular stone was small and round, it fit easily in the palm of his hand, and it's color was a particularly opaque shade of white… much like the pearls his mother liked so much. Azrael had taken that one specifically because it reminded him of her. Now, it would serve a completely different purpose.

Azrael put it in one of his pockets, closed the lockbox and headed back downstairs. There was no time for sentimentality right now. Not when he was so close… So close… It was hard to imagine how fast time had passed since he had obtained the Tascollan holocron, and the events that followed afterwards.

After leaving the Tascollan Nebula, Azrael headed back to Drongar. Ryam's bota exporting operation was mostly automated and run by droids… and he was entered in their systems as a high-ranking member. And with everything the had learned at the Santhe Corporation, he very easily increased his cred accounts by an immensely large sum, transferred ownership of some very valuable hardware to the Corporation, and set up the future transaction profits to go to them as well… all with just some swift keystrokes… Just a little gift for Lady Santhe, which Azrael was sure would further help in his standing on her staff and continue his continued rise through the ranks. And as he climbed back on the _Hopeless Diamond_, Azrael smiled and wondered what Valle Santhe would say if such knew how such a great manipulator as herself was in turn being so easily manipulated.

The impact back in Lianna was immediate. Lady Santhe embraced Azrael almost as a returning hero when news reached her of their new acquisitions, and Karala was basically walking on air when he presented her with the gift he had brought back for her, an immense green jewel he had unearthed in Drongar during his original stay there.

With his relationship with the Santhe women in order, the men still in check, and his stock rising within the Corporation, Azrael was then able to turn his attention to this true calling…

Learning the ways of the Dark Side of the Force… and mastering them.

As Azrael looked back on the last three years, they almost seemed like a blur. He had set up an enclosed training center in the basement of an unused storage building, on the furthest edges of Lola Curich's Industrial Sector and immersed himself in his training. And encountering the holocron gatekeepers and accessing the dark knowledge that it stored for the first time was overwhelming, both physically and mentally. But with the Force essence of his Master by his side, Azrael persevered and thrived as he fervently soaked everything the spirits of the Sith of old had to teach him.

Sansin Koriss retold for him the details of the golden age of the Old Sith Empire, a two thousand year long reign in which the Sith domain spanned across the galaxy and encompassed well over a hundred worlds. The empire and its technology were fueled by the power of the Dark Side. Sansin explained to Azrael about all the advances the Sith developed during this time with the aid of the Force. He also told him about their unquestioned ruler, the Dark Lord of the Sith, and of the great names that had held that mantle.

There had been Ajunta Pall, who had led the defeated Dark Jedi into the Outer Rim territories and the foreboding planet Korriban after the _Hundred Year Darkness_ conflict against the Jedi, and became one of the original founders of the Old Sith Empire. On Korriban, the Dark Jedi subjugated the native Sith… the original Force-sensitive species, which bore the name that would eventually be adopted by the dark siders… and Pall became the first being to take the mantle of Dark Lord.

And Tulak Hord, who was said to have been on of the greatest of the old Sith lightsaber masters. Honing his skills through relentless training and exhaustive battles, Lord Hord had no peer to his dueling skills, slaying countless opponents as the Sith forces made their way across the Outer Rim expanding the reaches of their growing empire.

And of course, there was Marka Ragnos, perhaps the greatest of the Dark Lords of the old empire. Lord Ragnos ruled for over a hundred years and led the old Sith to the pinnacle of their existence. Unmatched not only in his mastery of the Force, but in his physical strength as well, Ragnos was feared, obeyed and admired by his followers and enemies alike. He also, unlike all the other Sith and Jedi, did not wield a lightsaber, but an ancient Sith Sword enhanced by Dark Side sorcery, alongside a pair of dark gauntlets that further boosted his combat skills.

Coincidentally, Revan visited the tombs of all these Sith Lord in Korriban, and even encountered the Force ghost of Ajunta Pall himself, whom Azrael's master redeemed and turned back to the Light Side of the Force.

Sansin, as a Sith apprentice, had studied all that he could of these Dark Lords, so that he could learn from them and grow stronger in the Force with their indirect influence… and now he was passing all of this knowledge to Azrael. And after three years of study, Azrael felt that he knew them, their strengths and weaknesses, powers and abilities, almost as well as his own… which was invaluable to one that meant to one day follow in their footsteps.

Bavik Vannor meanwhile expanded and strengthened Azrael's knowledge of the Force. Having left the Jedi to follow the ways of the Dark Side, Vannor immersed himself in it, exploring all he could about all the techniques he had been forbidden to learn about… from commonly known ones as Force Choke and Force Lightning to rarer ones like Quey'tek, which allowed users to hide their sensitivity and power with the Force from other users, and the 'spear of midnight black', which enabled a Force-user to forge an invisible spear from dark side energies that could be tossed at one's opponents.

Azrael took to their guidance with vigor and combined these abilities with the ones he had already developed, greatly expanding his understanding of the Force. But his training was anything but easy, as mastering the ways of the Force is anything but, as when he first attempted to create lightning and burned and charred the flesh on his right hand.

Yet through early setbacks, Azrael redoubled his efforts, becoming more and more comfortable with all aspects of the Force, learning how to augment it by drawing it from within himself, and feeding it with the strength of his feelings and emotions… They would give him greater power but would not control him. And with every passing day, week after week, month after month, year after year, it became second nature to him.

An as Sansin and Vannor strengthened Azrael's mind with their knowledge extensive history of the order and the workings of the Force, so did Dargous Tanmoul push it, along with Azrael's body, with his vast knowledge of combat tactics. The Sith battlemaster was fluent in all seven classic forms of lightsaber combat, which could also be extended to unarmed combat, and passed on his wisdom to Azrael.

Starting with form Shii-Cho, Azrael learned the fundamental aspects of lightsaber combat and unleashed them on the unsuspecting members of Santhe Security during increased visits to their training facilities. Azrael used a force pike during these sessions so as to continue to keep the secret of his Sith training as such.

And as time went on, the battlemaster began to guide Azrael towards the more complicated and powerful forms and maneuvers, giving him an expanded working knowledge of all of them, plus devised exercises that required Azrael to also be able to seamlessly use to Force to aid combat.

And his studies progressed to higher levels, Azrael in turn became most focused on Form VI, Niman. This form balanced all elements of lightsaber combat, combining the techniques from the other forms. It provided no edge in battle, but achieved its worth in not leaving its wielder as exposed as some of the more aggressive forms. Its strength was its balance… A key, and ironic, aspect that greatly appealed to him.

Also of great interest to Azrael was how Niman provided a basis for more 'unorthodox' fighting styles, its users constantly thinking and often inventing unusual strategies for combat on the spot… Deflect an enemy's strike and counter with a sudden blow from the Force… Move into close quarters then slip a second blade from his sleeve…Throw your lightsaber at them as you appear to flee… The young Sith liked this most of all, as he did not like being constrained and preferred improvisation, as his entire life since he began down the path of the Dark Side had been.

In time, even the hardened Santhe Security corps became a lesser and lesser challenge to Azrael. He never used a lightsaber so as to not reveal his true identity, but they used sufficient melee weapons to compensate. Soon, lest his tactics and abilities became too telling, Azrael began to use the bota distribution network, as well as Corporation, contacts to supply him with combat droids.

The B-series battle droids had been immensely mass-produced and had comprised the vast majority of the armies of the Trade Federation, Techno Union, and Confederacy of Independent Systems during the _Clone Wars_. After their defeat at the hands of the Galactic Republic and the Jedi, huge numbers of these droids were left scattered across the galaxy and in particular, the Outer Rim. Vast warehouses were still filled with them during Azrael's time, as well as many being owned by crime syndicates and warlords as part of their own private armies.

Coupled with them, he obtained several Duelist Elite droids, state of the art robots that were designed to be masters of the three classical fencing styles of foil, épée, and saber, and could be equipped with a variety of melee weapons and were built to have faster-than-human reflexes.

And in no time at all, a steady stream of all of them found their way to Lianna.

On the droids, Azrael showed no mercy. Lightsaber in hand and the Force literally crackling from his fingertips, he tore in them with everything he was learning from Dargous Tanmoul. The droids in turn had all safety protocols removed and attacked with deadly force and without hesitation. Day after day, Azrael faced waves of oncoming death, testing his rapidly growing powers to the max. But for the first time in a long while, he did not have to hold back. He opened himself fully to the Force and met the challenge, turning wave after wave of droids into increasingly high piles of scrap metal.

It was not easy though. The shear number of attacking droids coupled with his inexperience in true combat made his combat training exceedingly difficult. He suffered many burns, broken bones and torn muscles, but with his supply of bota, and a secretly purchased bacta tank, those injuries were healed almost as fast as they occurred.

Now everything was almost in order. Azrael's destiny was unfolding before him. He had met every challenge so far, had his heart and soul wrenched and nearly destroyed, his body pushed beyond its limits of endurance, his affinity with the Force unleashed and now growing exponentially. He had even killed both friend and enemy for a greater purpose. There was just one thing missing before this phase was complete...

Azrael looked towards the slim, silver cylinder lying on the table and knew what he had to do next. That lightsaber had served him well in his training, and in dealing with Verpalion, but it was not his. He did not make it, he did not win it, and it had never felt right in his hands. A lightsaber was as much a part of a Sith or Jedi as any part of their body. A distinctive symbol of their Orders, crafted to become a completely unique extension of the individual that built it. And it was time for Azrael to create his own.

The instructions were in the holocron, the essence of Dargous Tanmoul would show him the way, and the materials to create the hilt were available in Lianna. Almost everything was in place. All he needed was the most important thing…

The perfect lightsaber crystal…

And the answer on where to find it was revealed shortly after Azrael's decision was made… Absent from his life for the past three years except for an occasional whisper or Force suggestion, Darth Revan's spirit appeared to him now…

_The time is right, Azrael… There is a very unique lightsaber crystal who some call Bane's Heart. A crystal with a long history with the dark side, and that responds very strongly to it. And it is now waiting for the next Dark Lord of the Sith. _

_It originally belonged to Darth Bane, the Dark Lord over 1000 years ago. Influenced by the teachings of my holocron, Bane destroyed the Sith Order and forged a new path for the followers of the Dark Side with himself as its head. He in turn gave it to his apprentice, Darth Zannah, who used it in her lightsaber as she began her training towards achieving the mantle her master possessed._

_The crystal eventually came into the possession of one Qymaen jai Sheelal, who one day would become the infamous General Grievous and student of Darth Tyrannus, in turn a former apprentice to Darth Sidious, the last of the Dark Lords. Afterwards, the crystal was obtained by forces of the Galactic Empire, who used it to build a lightsaber for NH-K Necrosis, a cyborg that was built from Grievous' remains._

_Necrosis was killed over 10 years ago by a group of spacers on Kashyyyk, who looted everything from him, including his lightsaber and Bane's Heart. And as you have been training, honing your power and skill, I have been searching for it… for traces of it in the Force, so that I can guide you to it. A proper offering for the future Dark Lord._

Azrael listened intently to all of Revan's word. Through his study of the history of the Sith and the Dark Side of the Force, he had grown to greatly value all the persons and events that had come before him… how they had shaped the galaxy and Force through their actions… learning from them so that he could gather from their victories… and learn from their defeats. And now hearing about this near mythical crystal, he clearly saw its significance… and how it was truly now meant for him… "What did you find, Master? Where is the crystal?"

_Travel to the Naos System, just past the edges of the Tion Cluster. There, on the moon of the system's third planet, those who now possess the crystal are presently situated… Go find them and retrieve your property._

"Thank you, Master. I will not let you down."

_I know you will not, Azrael. So far you have exceeded every expectation. And I know you will again. _

And with that, Revan's Force ghost vanished, leaving Azrael with his thoughts focused on the Naos system. He could almost hear Bane's Heart calling to him through the Force. From one Dark Lord to another, both influenced by the same, great predecessor…

His internal thoughts were then suddenly broken by a string of chirping noises coming from behind him. Azrael turned to see the red and golden figure of R5-T1, Ryam's former and now his astromech droid, looking at him…

"Yes, R5. Go prep the '_Diamond_. We're going to Naos III."

**Chapter 14**

Stepping outside into the cool Nime evening, Azrael waved a hand towards the Cal homestead and once more sealed it in a Force lock. Regardless of where to he went to from here, the house would remain closed off to all but him. It served no other practical purpose but to remind him of where he came and who he once was, and he would never forget that.

He now sped along, quickly leaving his home town behind, heading towards the empty fields nearby… the fields that he once learned were used by smugglers as makeshift landing zones and where his ship, the _Hopeless Diamond_, was stationed…

Azrael intended to rechristen it, but had not yet thought of a new name. Ryam, the friend he had been force to slay over three years ago, had named it that as an metaphor of her search for the one big score that would finally allow her to leave her life of smuggling behind, and which she ironically thought were the mutated bota plants that Azrael had discovered and shared with her. But Ryam now lay within a grave in those same bota field of Drongar, taken there by Azrael after he had left the Tascollan Nebula, and the time to follow in the time honored tradition of a captain naming his ship was close at hand.

But as the ship came into view, his thoughts once more went to how close he came to not having reached his home planet again… and how difficult the journey had been…

As Azrael, unbeknownst to the any other Lianna citizen, dove deeper into the teachings of the Force and of the dark side, 'Guelim' continued to spend most daylight hours increasing his role within the Santhe Corporation. Famed Jedi battlemaster Cin Drallig, who met his end at the hands of Darth Vader the _Great Jedi Purge_, referred to lightsaber combat form Niman… where Azrael focus was directed… as 'diplomat's form' as it allowed 'Jedi to spend more time developing their skills in perception, political strategy, and negotiation.' The same was true for a Sith.

Azrael had by now spent nearly 4 years working for Lady Valles Santhe and had become an indispensible member of her staff. She had grown to greatly trust his instincts as, even though still just a boy 14 years of age, he showed an incredible amount of foresight and intuition for such a young, which she in turn used in highly profitable business ventures…

"Just a gut feeling," he would always tell her with a sly smile when so frequently his advise turned out right… smiling mostly at his little secret. It was really not that hard to tell who is lying, who is bluffing and who is dangerous… as long as you have the Force on your side.

Lady Santhe was so pleased with him that she had formally made him an official Corporation employee, dutifully entered in all personnel records. He was listed as being part of a newly developed… just for him… 'Core Leadership Development Program' and in less than a year's time, on his 15th birthday, which is when Lianna citizens can legally begin working as adults, 'Guelim Soran'… the full, yet invented, name he took in memory of both his parents… would take on the role of Special Executive Assistant to the Chief Executive Officer.

Valles knew that she did not have many more years in front of her, and it pleased that her young protégé would finally be formally in line to take over the Corporation one day. Both her son Philip and grandson Kashan were unaware of this and would likely put up a legal fight of some kind when it finally dawned on them, but there would be nothing they could do about it. She did not relish the idea of a rift in their powerful family, but it had to be this way for the good of the Corporation. Just as she had planned it, her plan was coming to fruition… as well as Azrael's.

But Valles Santhe was not the only woman he had a deep impact on, and the other was much more personal. Karala Santhe was now 17, and a high profile member of Lianna's high class elite, pursued by all young men of stature who hoped to one day become part of the planet's most powerful family. Of course, her stunning looks did not to attain to push away the suitors either. Very tall and with golden skin like her father, the late Rodin Hlian Verpalion, combined with long, jet black hair and dark eyes the women in the Santhe family were renowned for, Karala had developed into a sight to behold… But unfortunately for all her fans, she only seemed to have eyes for one person.

Since being liberated from her secluded childhood existence, Karala had soaked up everything that was great about being a Santhe. She craved excitement, success, power and wealth, not in a malicious or immoral way as she was not a bad person at heart, but as means to a better, and influential, life. And there was no one she could think of that fit into that mold as much as Azrael. She was aware of her great grandmother's plans for Azrael… and was the only person in Lianna that knew of his secret past and of his abilities with the Force. And every time she was near him, she felt as if she also was being engulfed by it… This of course was no coincidence.

Azrael had long sensed Karala's multiple feelings, both towards him and towards his powers, and compensated accordingly. He regretted having disclosed so much to her early only and compromising his secrecy, but he was still naïve back them. But that was just another challenge to overcome. Now every time they were together, he poured out feelings of confidence and vigor through the Force, fueling her attraction towards him and making her more susceptible to suggestion on his part. Azrael's position with Lady Santhe and within the Corporation was strong, and a closer continued relationship with the future heir of the ruling family made it stronger…

During this time, they were seen publicly together often as Azrael accompanied her to the many high society functions a young lady of her class was expected to attend, garnering quite a bit of popularity among the people himself… as he seemed to radiate an aura that attracted others to him… In the end, Karala was certain… yet blindly mistaken… in thinking the young Force adept was putty in her hands, to be guided and molded any way she wanted… and continuing to provide Azrael continued access to the more influential citizens of Lianna. And in the backdrop of all that high society drama, the _Hopeless Diamond_ departed for Naos III…

As the winter winds blow over the Roon Sea and into Nime, they bring a massive snow effect that blankets the city, which combined with the already cool temperatures made for some rough winters during Azrael's youth… So when the first blast of polar hair hit his face as he walked off the ship, he felt almost nostalgic when he arrived in the Naos system and disembarked on its hub of civilization, Naos III.

The third and furthermost from the main planet, Naos III was a frigid moon whose name represented both it and the sole habitation center. Life here was hard, with very long, cold winters and foggy, cloudy 'summers' coupled with mucky and debris-filled streets, their ceramacrete paving damaged and worn, and lined with low-slung prefab buildings.

Colonist meanwhile braved these hardships in hopes of striking it rich by either discovering hidden veins of ryll spice within the moon's volcanic caves or through the fishing of the Naos sharptooth, a massively expensive delicacy across the galaxy. Sharptooth export in turn was a virtual monopoly run by the Naos III Mercantile, a large business entity that also served as the area's informal government. Now besides the sharptooth industry, the Mercantile also held a monopoly on most of the moon's hotels, cantinas, and stores. And one of the places they controlled, the Palace Hotel, is where Azrael was headed to now.

The Palace Hotel was the largest structure in Naos III, rising several dozen stories high and covering almost an entire city block. And unlike most other buildings on the moon, the all-inclusive resort was maintained in very good shape by the Mercantile and it continued to attract a constant flow of visitors. Yet the main reason for the hotel's renown was not the rare amenities it provided in the dismal region but something much more valuable to its owners… the high supply of Lethan Twi'lek prostitutes inside.

Female Twi'leks were widely considered to be especially attractive by a great number of other species, which unfortunately led to many young Twi'leks females to be sold into slavery, becoming dancers or status symbols for wealthy and nefarious individuals.

And in turn, Lethan Twi'leks were the rarest of all, a mutation in their genetic code leading to their red skin color. Now although rare throughout the galaxy, a relatively sizeable population of female Lethans had over time settled on Naos III and many of them inevitably fell prey to the lures of the moon's seedier enterprises… helping the Mercantile fuel the expensive, yet highly desirable, fantasies of their clients.

Azrael could sense their feelings… frustration, disgust, angst… when he entered the hotel with barely an effort. He had always had a certain affinity towards Twi'leks, and the state of mind of the Lethan females toiling in servitude jumped out at him. Part of him felt a tug, wanting to assist… the memories of the Twi'lek whose death he had caused on Roon as well as those of Ryam trying to bubble to the surface… but he pushed it aside. He was here on a higher calling. Bane's Heart was in here, and it too was calling to him.

Azrael followed the trail the crystal had left through Force, slipping virtually undetected across the hotel and traced it to a large suite on the next to last top floor. He opened up his senses and felt four life forms in the room directly on the other side of the door, with a fifth one… a more dangerous one he sensed… in an adjoining space. And Bane's Heart… the traces of the Dark Side emanating from it like a beacon… was also there… away from them… unguarded.

The moment was now at hand, but Azrael hesitated, uncertain on how to proceed. Should he barge in violently, cutting everyone down before they even had a chance to react? Should he use guile… and the Force… to trick them into giving him the crystal? "What would Darth Revan do?" crossed his mind. Then the question was answered…

_No… The question is, what should Azrael do?_

Emboldened by his master's words, the plan took shape in his mind. In no time at all, he had entered the room above, incapacitated its occupants and began to silently cut a way down with his lightsaber… Secrecy, guile, cunning. Those were his weapons as much as the Force. Gradually, he made his way down in between floors until he was able to open a hole that allowed him to see directly into one of the side rooms below. And the call of the dark side was clear… There, inside a small plasteel cylinder within a pile of junk, lay the crystal.

It was late in the Naos night, and the occupants of the room were either drunk or sleeping. Azrael reached out with the Force and pulled the cylinder towards him… slowly so as not to catch anyone's attention. Gently it rose, through the opening and almost at his fingertips when he felt the chill down his spin… Danger.

Releasing his hold on the cylinder, Azrael was up and around in a flash, the lightsaber carving a swooping defense block that batted away the incoming blaster bolt. Sensing no other imminent attacks and the slight surprise of his attacker, Azrael lifted his blade to head-height with both hands on the hilt, angled slightly inwards, with the dominant foot forward… the classic stance of Niman… and faced his assailant… the first time he had faced a non-robotic one with his full Force powers ready to bear.

Standing on the doorframe was a tall, slender female Lethan Twi'lek, blaster in hand, casting Azrael a sly look of amusement at him. She then began to slowly walk towards him, and Azrael could not help but admire the tight, scant clothing she wore that revealed a fair amount of her fit body… just the effect the Twi'lek counted on from her victims.

Just a few feet away from him, she then said, "Two words of caution, kid. First, do not make so much noise when taking out your opponents if secrecy is of the essence," as she waved a hand towards the room's former occupants, "And second, cutting through plasteel and ceramacrete with an energy weapon makes a subtle but distinct smell." Then without another, she fired two quick shots but ones that Azrael easily deflected.

Confidence flowing through him, Azrael lunged forward while thrusting his lightsaber at his attacker. But the Twi'lek moved back with surprising speed and grace, blocking the attack with a forearm-long vibroblade that she had pulled out so quickly Azrael had not even noticed. Still, he had her on the defense so he replied by saying, "And a word of caution for you… When you have to attack, do so and leave the talking for later." But the Twi'lek smiled at him again and said, "I offer you the same advice," just as she swung her other arm… which also now held a second vibroblade… towards his head.

It was now Azrael's turn to make a hasty retreat, his Forces senses giving him enough warning and power to back off just in front of the potentially deadly blow. The two then faced each other once more with the Twi'lek first saying, "Not bad… All the better though, as I have always wanted to slice up a Jedi." Azrael smiled back at her and replied, "I am not a Jedi, but you are welcomed to try… and fail."

A fierce battle ensued right after, with lightsaber and dual vibroblades clashing with blinding speed… and it soon became apparent to Azrael that he might be in over his head. He had rushed in, overly confident that his skills would be more than enough to overwhelm a single attacker, and without any plan in mind. But the Twi'lek was stronger than he expected, her blades… unbelievable so… were able to counter against his lightsaber without suffering much damage, and she was much faster than he first thought. Thinking he could rely on the Force to get him out of any jam, he now barely had time to tap into it so he could stay one step ahead of her… and without enough time to be able to use it to form a counteroffensive.

And with every backpedal, Azrael kept running out of room… and the Twi'lek kept coming at him, her blades a swirl of motion and death. Finally, she backed him into a corner. One of his feet bumped into a wall, swaying his concentration for an instant, but enough for his attacker to break through his defenses. Knocking his lightsaber blade to one side, she spun around and brought a backside roundhouse kick to the side of his head. Stunned Azrael barely had time to react as the blade on her left hand swung towards him as he fell, cutting across his right forearm.

The sharp pain and sight of blood was a jolt to the senses as Azrael fell to the ground… his vision still blurry, his senses muddled… with his lightsaber falling helplessly to the floor and deactivating. On his knees, he looked up to see the Twi'lek looking down at him, an insolent smirk on her face, and one of her vibroblades poised menacingly an inch from her face… So this is what it was like to face imminent death.

"My name is Dren Kuu'la, Jedi… or whatever you think you are," she now said to him in an icy cool tone, "And the scumbags below are under my protection, regardless of how despicable they might be. You should have picked your targets more carefully… Too bad you will not get to live long enough to learn from your mist…"

Her statement was cutoff as she suddenly found herself flying backwards… as if pushed by some invisible force… and slamming with a deep thud against a wall. She then felt to the ground in a convulsing heap, her body suddenly engulfed in a storm of blue lightning… that only stopped once she had slipped into unconsciousness.

Azrael slowly rose, touching his forearm and seeing the palm of his hand covered in red. For all his skill, all his power, all his training, he had come so very close to dying before he even really started. And why? Because of overconfidence… because he thought so highly of himself.

Revan had once told him not to use the Force as a crutch, not to depend on it for success, but to supplement his actions with it. Yet, he had done the exact opposite. And in the end, it had saved him… With Dren Kuu'la allowing him just a moment's respite, Azrael tapped into his growing fear and anger, and let loose the Force… the dark side… on her in an almost imperceptible manner. But it should have never come to that… And Azrael swore he would never let it happen again. He had learned an invaluable lesson that night and he was lucky to walk away from it all… and he would never forget it.

He then walked to Dren's slumped body and removed the long leather strap that she had tied around the length of one of her lekku. Azrael wrapped it tightly around his right forearm to stem the bleeding… and to serve as a reminder. He would also not kill her. The fight was over and she was no longer a threat, plus had only be doing her job… Do not become a monster… Another lesson from his master he intended to remember.

Azrael then went over to the hole he had cut on the floor and saw the cylinder with Bane's heart below… and in the hands of one of the room's occupants, obviously alerted by the commotion above. Without looking, he reached back and called the fallen lightsaber to him…

So close… So close to losing everything… Never again. Azrael closed his eyes and reached out… He found all potential targets below… sensed their thoughts and feelings… felt what they soon were likely to do… thought possibilities out…

And then he jumped in through the hole and into the room below.

**Chapter 15**

With the _Hopeless Diamond_ breaking out of Roon's gravity well, Azrael sat in the ship's machine shop, in front of one of the utility stations, and spread out a number of items before him… the items he would need to build his own lightsaber. And most important of all, were the three items that lay in the middle of the table… the three crystals that would produce the blade.

First was Bane's Heart, a carmine colored crystal that would be the main focus of his weapon. It would add powerful electrical discharges to it, as well as imbue the blade with a deep red color… clearly announcing Azrael's allegiance.

As Azrael picked it up and twirled it through his fingers, he recalled the night when he obtained it. His almost ill fated duel with Dren Kuu'la… dropping into the Palace Hotel room below and disposing of the spacers that had possessed the crystal… No overconfidence that time, just cold efficiency… always aware of his senses and surroundings… Succeeding easily this time, then hastily leaving the Hotel and its occupants behind, reaching his ship before anyone else even realized he had been there.

But leaving Naos III, he had not felt fully secure in himself. He had been humbled in combat, yet managed to survive... He had a powerful dark side artifact in his possession, but he felt it was not sufficient… And still another part of his mind thought of the Lethan Twi'lek that attacked him… and how strikingly beautiful he had thought she was right before she tried to shoot him… So many thoughts, feelings, worries made him feel… made him remember… that he was still just 14 years old... barely more than a boy.

Ordinarily, as a normal kid back in his hometown… back in Nime… he would at this time be spending time with his friends and having fun, maybe starting to notice girls. At most, having an apprenticeship in fishing to earn a few coins… Instead, here he was, travelling alone at the furthest reaches of the Outer Rim as the future of an empire now apparently in ruins, as well as the balance of the Force, lay on his young shoulders.

Azrael had then retreated into a deep meditative state, attempting to come to grips with the state of his life and his apparent impeding future… He recalled the memories of his earliest days… the happiest times he could remember… when his family was still alive… This inevitably brought back the memories of terrible loss and of indescribable grief… He thought of when he first consciously touched the world through the Force… The memory of his first kill… indirect as it was… the subsequent betrayal by his so-called friends… and his punishing revenge on them… and on Gaff.

He had brought his death in a furious calculating manner… truly the first time that blinding anger drove his actions… Then leaving Roon behind for Drongar…The brutally hard physical trial that had been… Then leaving again for Lianna, now his home… Starting out with nothing except his mind and the Force, and rising to the position of achievement he now had… But not without further testing of his body and soul…

The death of friend and foe alike… pushing his body to the edge of its physical limits… His involvement… and manipulation… of Lady Santhe and Karala… for his gain and pleasure… And all throughout immersing himself in the ways of the Force… in the ways of the Sith… in the ways of the dark side… learning from Darth Revan himself… And most recently… facing the prospect of his own death.

And it was through all that introspection that clarity came… He was not ordinary or normal, and had not been so for a long time… He had face the worst nightmare imaginable and came out stronger from it… He had found his calling and embraced it. He had a goal… a destiny… that would be extremely difficult to achieve… and he would not shrink from it at the first sign of adversity…

He had done horrible things, but had not lost his soul… He still knew who he was… whether Azrael, Guelim or Alandres… Yes, traumatic events had questioned his resolve, as should be expected. He was made of flesh and blood, not metal. He was human and not a robot… It was fine to have doubts, but they must not overcome you. You had to evolve, adapt, persevere… and that he would do.

Azrael opened his eyes, walked over to where he had left the plasteel cylinder… then picked it up and opened it, dropping the shiny crystal on his palm… And from it, he felt the power of the dark side, the imprint it had stamped on the crystal, flowing instantly through him… seemingly recognizing him as its true owner… and sensing the impressions its previous owners had left on it… Yes, he would not shrink from this.

Then, as if he had been laying in wait for Azrael to come to that realization, the force ghost of his master, Darth Revan, suddenly appeared before him…

_The time is almost at hand Azrael. You have been through much and grown stronger from it, passing through tests of skill, flesh, courage and, finally, spirit. Yes, these might be the trials of a Jedi, but although you are learning the ways of the dark side, we can still look to the light… for further insight… for further balance._

_And now you are truly ready to move forward. Only one major tasks remains… _

That was when Azrael decided to return to Roon. He already had Bane's Heart, but for this lightsaber to be complete… truly an extension of him… Azrael felt an additional, personal touch, was needed. During his studies, he had learned how crystals were often used to generate an aesthetic touch on lightsaber blades. With that thought in mind, Azrael put down the 'Heart' and picked up the roonstoone lying on the work station. There was no record of one ever being used on a lightsaber, and there was no way to anticipate what effect it would have on the blade… but he would soon find out. The small, white stone represented so many things about his past that it seem fitting… almost necessary… for it to be part of the assembly… and so it would be. Clutching it tightly in his palm, he sensed what he would almost describe as a level of acceptance from the Force… He was almost finished.

Finally, he turned his focus on the last item… a synthetic crystal. The Sith had long used synthetic crystals in their lightsabers, which were said to generate a more powerful blade when imbued with the dark side of the Force. Azrael had created his, following the direction of Darth Revan and battlemaster Dargous Tanmoul, using a superheated furnace, guiding through the Force the formation of the crystal, replicating millennia of geological compression inside the small machine. And after several exhausting days of focus and concentration, it was finished. It was small and multi-faceted, and almost glowed in a very deep carmine shade, even more intense than the coloring of Bane's Heart, Azrael pouring into it his pent up fury that still burned inside him at the memory of the loss of his family.

And then, with everything in place, Azrael began the construction of his lightsaber. After leaving Roon's surface, the _Hopeless Diamond_ circled around the planet until it reached its' sole moon. The ship landed inside an immense crater on the moon's dark side, safely tucked away from any peering eyes or passing ship… and Azrael opened himself fully to the Force…

Roon had once been the capital of the _New Sith Empire_, at its apex larger than the Sith empires of old that preceded it… and its mark was still evident millennia later across the expanse of the infamous _Cloak of the Sith_, where the planet lay. And as Azrael entered into a state of deep meditation, using the Force to begin the long and intricate assembly of his lightsaber, he also tapped into the well of dark side energy around him… and the imprint that the Sith Lords that ruled here had left behind.

As the pieces of the hilt merged together, he sensed traces of Lord Kaan, who through his brilliant strategies and immense charisma, had ended the civil war that had almost consumed the Sith and reestablished them as the major force in the galaxy… before his descent into near madness.

As the crystals lined into in places, Azrael felt the evidence of passage of Darth Bane, his iron will and determination, his raw power, driven by his own vision to return the Sith to the glory of old… but only after destroying them all and instituting his Rule of Two, the mantra that the order had followed for the last thousand years, culminating in Darth Sidious's conquering of the galaxy… and ending with his death at the hands of his apprentice, Darth Vader.

The power cell rotating towards the hilt, the stain of pure evil of Darth Ruin… the founder of the New Sith Empire… was felt by Azrael. Ruin had united the various warring Sith clans and launched a thousand year long war against the Jedi. But even as the Sith reached new heights, Ruin became hated and despised by them, and was eventually killed by his own followers… a harsh lesson to be remembered.

And with the blade emitter shroud firmly in place, Azrael slowly came out of his meditative state… and was suddenly overwhelmed by intense hunger, thirst and physical exhaustion. After taking a moment to compose himself, he looked at the nearest chrono and was astounded by what he saw… He had been at the moon for an entire galactic standard week!

Azrael tried to get up but collapsed to the floor, his body too weak to hold itself up. His vision beginning to darken and afraid he was going to pass, Azrael willed the Force into himself. Like a vibrant electric current, he drew from it and made himself stand, dragging his body to ship's storage lockers. After forcing down a pair of hydration tablets and a concentrate stick, he felt well enough to barely, stand under his own power and return to the machine shop, and the fruit of his labor.

On the slow, painful walk, he pondered about his condition and marveled at how such a deep state of meditation had made days seem like hours and how his body, undoubtedly sustained by the Force itself, had stayed alive through a period of sustenance depravation that normally should have killed him. Also trying to get his attention now was R5, who was beeping about unanswered messages that had arrived from Lianna. Azrael had not set a timetable nor given any expectations on when he would return from Roon, and his continued comm silence was worrying those waiting for him in Lianna.

But all of that fell temporarily aside as Azrael finally gazed at the gleaming lightsaber lying on the workbench. It was shorter than the one he had been using, Jedi Master Cei Vookto's lightsaber, the top of the hilt extending only a couple of inches beyond his hand… it was primarily a one-hand weapon, but its size made it much easier to conceal… Azrael had no intention to broadcast his secret...

Its surface shined brightly, as nearby console lights reflected off the polished durasteel alloy… the source of which had been the fallen assault ship _VCD987_, and that had served as Azrael's home during his stay in Drongar… a reminder of his past as well as the events that made him who he was today.

The handgrip in turn was wrapped in a long, dark leather strap… the same one that Azrael had taken from the fallen Dren Kuu'la after his near fatal duel with her in Naos III… further assurance that he would never forget the effects of overconfidence.

Azrael picked it un and gripped it in his right hand, the weapon feeling almost a part of it, an extension of his own arm. He had designed it with a curved hilt, as the standard straight one had never felt truly comfortable. That was not the case now with his new creation, as his hand molded naturally around its ergonomic form.

Tightening his grip around it, Azrael thought about everything he had learned about the Sith legacy before him. The monumental victories and unfathomable losses… The epic reigns and unspeakable betrayals…

And most importantly, almost all as much self-inflicted as brought on by their enemies…

And now, over 25,000 years since the first clash between the followers of the light and the dark… over 24,000 since the first Jedi left their Order to pursue the teachings of the dark side… over 7,000 years since Ajunta Pall became the first to take the title of Dark Lord of the Sith…over 6,000 years since Darth Andeddu had first used that honorary title… over 3,600 years since the unprecedented peace between the Sith and the Jedi… almost 1,500 years since the _New Sith Empire_ ruled over most of the known Galaxy… over 1,000 years since Darth Bane instituted the _Rule of Two_… just over a mere 30 years since Darth Sidious had ushered in the Galactic Empire… only one word could describe the Sith Order now…

Extinct…

Yes, there were other Sith out there, some where… Azrael had felt them as a subtle, distant ripple in the Force… But they were outsiders. They had not been part of the Order of the Sith Lords… not been part of Darth Bane's vision, inspired by Darth Revan. They were created and raised in isolation, following their own guidance… And their impact on the future of the Sith… the true Sith… was suspect at best.

And that future would start now…

Azrael flipped the activation switch and the room was instantly illuminated with the glow from the luminous blade. It was a deep, dark red color, but with a opaque white glow shinning brightly at the point the blade exited the hilt… undoubtedly a visual effect from the roonstone… giving it a distinct two-tone shade. Truly a unique weapon.

A different glow suddenly became apparent, but Azrael did not need to see it as his sense quickly picked up the Force presence of his master, Darth Revan…

_Now you are truly a Sith. Move forward and bring back the Sith Empire… You changed your name once and it is time to do so again… Darth Azrael._

Hearing his adopted name accompanied by that title both thrilled and terrified Azrael. The title was a symbol of dark side power… a claim to supremacy. And now it was his turn…

_But do not forget what I have taught you, do not forget all you have learned… The temptation will be great. But learn from the mistakes of past… Do not take the easy way out… Do not repeat the errors of others, the errors that have continued to plague our order for millennia…_

_And above all, remember that the light must also return after you have snuffed it out… You must set those events in motion and ensure our work… your work… is continued after your time has passed…_

_From here on out, you are no longer an apprentice… From now on, you are your own master. It is time to finally allow my spirit to become one with the Force… The future is up to you…_

And with that Revan's image slowly faded away, leaving Azrael alone… and surprisingly emotional. Revan had been a part of his life for over nine years… as a friend, surrogate father figure and master… the longest personal relationship he had ever had. And the loss of it made Azrael feel as if he had once more witnessed the passing of someone dear to him… But like always, he would on, being made stronger by the pain. That was part of being a Sith.

Azrael switched off his lightsaber then hooked it onto his belt. From here on out, it would never leave his side. He then walked over to the ship's cockpit and gazed out through the viewport. The galaxy stretched out before him, stars filling the sky as far as the eye could see. Then closing his eyes and reaching out with the Force, he could see… feel… even further…

The flood of feelings and sensations poured into him… images from his homeworld below and those around it… visions of the future blinking in and out, too fast to discern… pulls from the Force in so many directions…

The future was there for the taking… for the return of the Sith… and it all started right now, with him, Darth Azrael…

The question now was… where to start?


End file.
